


Stranger Things Have Happened: Y1

by Lockie



Series: When The Worlds Collide [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Content from CA:WS, M/M, Very very extremely Slow-Built
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 66,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lockie/pseuds/Lockie
Summary: What happens when The-Boy-Who-Lived was adopted by the world's most famous genius billionaire and a Norse God of Mischief?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of those characters belong to me (too bad
> 
> Mostly Harry POV, aside from perhaps the first chapter and other random occasions. This is me trying to put two of my favourite fandoms together :D
> 
> ================
> 
> Some things I may or may not need to clear up - 
> 
> Harry's changed to be born in around 1999 to fit the Avengers timeline.
> 
> Loki/Tony Stark is pre-established. The Avengers Team knows about it, Asgard knows about it, everyone knows about it. 
> 
> Drarry is marked future because, duh, they're both 11 right now?
> 
> Harry is officially accepted into the royal family of Asgard. Yup, don't mess with Harry or the whole Space Viking colony will be coming after you.
> 
> I'm having fun messing with Tom :D
> 
> This may or may not turn into a fix-it fic (If I ever get to Ultron and TDW and The Accord and Civil War I'm fixing everything. 
> 
> Probably OOC, cuz I'm really bad at writing...
> 
> And probably lots of grammar errors. Please don't hesitate to point them out!
> 
> ================
> 
> Alright, you have been warned. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beginning of everything

“So, how was Asgard?”

“As usual.” The boy replied in a casual tone as he swiftly caught the ball Clint threw in his direction without even looking up from the book he was reading, “Grandma Frigga baked me cakes, and Grandpa Odin was going on and on about golden apples and blah. He had a whole plate of them in his studies, and then he tried to bribe me.” 

Clint made a sound. “That’s a really great offer, you know, you should’ve sneaked one home, and then make it into an apple pie.”

“I think that’s what Daddy had done.”

This time Clint actually choked on the coke he was drinking, and the other couple balls he was juggling fell all over him. “What?” He yelled, but when his eyes went searching across Harry’s face he rolled his eyes and leaned back again, “God. Should’ve known you’re making that up.”

This time, Harry did looked up and smirked at Clint. He slid off the sofa and closed the book, tossing the ball he caught earlier back to Clint: “Done reading. I’m going down to Daddy’s...”

A piercing alarm rang through the room. “Blood hell.” Clint cursed out loud and grabbed his makeshift bow, just as JARVIS called out “Unauthorized magical presence in tower floor eighty eight,” which happened to be exactly Clint’s floor. Harry looked startled for a second, then his training kicked in and he began signing the illusion spell Loki demonstrated ages ago.

“Rest of the team?” Clint asked, controlling his breath as he approached the door. The two of them had been lying about in Clint’s playroom, and JARVIS detected the presence—something humanoid looking—to be in the kitchen. Why on earth would any villain target Clint’s kitchen, the archer didn’t really want to waste brain cells thinking.

“Currently present in the tower: Sir, Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner. Sir’s ETA is 22 seconds, Captain Rogers 48 seconds, Dr. Banner standby.”

“Good.” Clint said, glancing back. No one seemed to be there. Harry’s illusions were getting really good. Let’s get this over with, whoever disturbed my afternoon. Clint thought and stepped out of his room, bow and arrow ready to fire.

***

“This is all a huge mistake—”

“So you didn’t just break into my tower and tried to kidnap my son.” Tony said coldly. He still hadn’t stepped out of his armour, and his stare was so intense that the strange man winced, “I can sue you just for trespassing, you know.”

“I understand, Mr. Stark, but—”

“I’m suggesting that you get out of my tower right now or I can throw you out of a window.”

“Tony.” Steve sighed. The resident genius is always overprotective when it comes to his son, which may or may not had been a great virtue in cases like this. Tony’s mouth snapped shut and Steve kindly pushed his shoulder, instructing: “Tony, why don’t you go get Harry? Then we’ll sit down and have a normal talk? If Mr. Lupin is really from a secret society—” Steve glanced at the man, feeling a tiny bit uncomfortable making assumptions like that, “—think about Asgard. Think about how they tend to show up via Bifrost with no warning at all.”

“Dude, just go.” Clint said, arrow still pointing at the man, but his muscles had relaxed to a point indicating he wasn’t in battle mode anymore, “I’ll keep one eye—no, both of my eyes on him. And JARVIS is keeping at least ten cameras on him.”

At that, a camera whirled in the corner of the room and extended out, drawing a smirk from Tony.

“Alright.” He lowered his repulsors, “We’ll talk.”

Half an hour of explaining the school and Harry’s history later, Harry had nodded his consent. “I’ll go, Dad.” He said, then added to Tony’s look of shock, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed—you’re going to send me away from New York either way. Too obvious a target for kidnapping. England can do.”

Tony furrowed his brows, looking like he really wanted to open his mouth and argue.

“And I can learn a new type of magic.” Harry continued, eyes glinting, “I think it’ll be fun, Dad, new source of knowledge and experience and everything. Besides, you said I could pick my junior high.” He added as an afterthought, and Tony deflated.

“Okay, kid, your choice.” He pouted, staring at Lupin sharply, “I myself never had a great experience with boarding schools—I’ll withdraw you anytime you feel uncomfortable.”

Lupin went on assuring Tony that nothing is going to be that bad at Hogwarts.

“We still have a lot to talk about.” Steve announced, eyeing Lupin’s sad smile. Just from the short exchange, Steve had noticed the man’s similar personality as Bruce. Calm, mild, benevolent. Probably the best possible kind of person to deal with Tony’s bullshit. “Then, we’ll ready ourselves for some shopping. Right, Harry?”

***

A lot more needed to be settled, including things like wand and material for school. There was, apparently, a wizardry school in the US as well, but Harry had insisted on going to Hogwarts. Tony surrendered after ten minutes of debating, and off he went with the school.

One way or another, it was settled that Harry will be going to London for his necessaries with Lupin, and Tony will be going with them, because, well, reasons. There was no way Tony would miss out a chance to tour the magic world, and Steve thought it might be better for him to go with Lupin instead of with Loki. The two of them together pull the most impossible pranks in the whole freaking universe...

Tony scared the hell out the poor guy when he asked if Lupin was not human. Turned out he wasn’t, because he was a werewolf. Really, the world must had been bizarre, because aliens and gods and wizards and even werewolves were real—Steve guessed he couldn’t really complain, seeing how he had super soldier serum running in his veins and had survived being frozen for seventy years without aging a speck. Lupin seemed to be extremely concerned about their reaction to his...nature, until Harry assured him that it’s alright. Lupin loosened up significantly, although he remained stiff the whole time he was in the tower.

Harry had little to prepare for when he could travel back and forth in a matter of seconds. Tony decided to keep on his suit, and from the resignation from Lupin Steve could see the wizard disapprove of drawing attention to them. Then, when Harry performed the illusion trick Loki had taught him, changing Tony’s appearance into a blond man in dress pants, the man almost jumped out of his skin. He gaped so hard that his jaws looked like they would fall off. Harry just grinned and said it was the best method if they don’t want people seeing Tony Stark and Harry Stark-Lokason wandering about in London, and performed the same trick on himself.

Well...seeing the way Lupin was gazing into nothingness like he had been hit in the head, Steve felt really sympathetic for the man. Normal people aren’t used to having surreal days. He guessed normal werewolves weren’t either.

And the Stark family was probably the most surreal thing existing in the whole world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 80% confident that I'm finishing at least Year 1...I've written half of it (kinda,) which is why I'm posting four chapters today. I'll post a new chapter every three days for the next ten-ish chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diagonal Alley it is!

It took Harry less than five minutes to identify Lupin—or Remus, since he apparently was Harry’s biological parent’s close friend—as a caring and soft person and decided that he liked the man. It also seemed that the man was eager to talk to Harry about whatever possible topic there was, and he had seemed extremely concerned with Harry’s well-being.

 _He_ ’ _s boring._ Tom whispered in Harry’s head.

 _Uh-uh. You called Bruce boring too._ Harry pointed out. Except, after a day of lab session with Bruce, Tom seemed to have fallen in love with the scientist. As Harry had later found out, Bruce’s tea drinking habit (of all things, tea drinking!) had set Tom’s whatever alarm in his head off, but he had liked Bruce’s experiments and genius-y. Even more than he appreciated Tony’s talent in creating marvelous machinery—probably because of Tom’s secret interest in biology?

 _That_ ’ _s different._ Tom huffed, then quieted down. Harry knew he would be seeing through his eyes and gazing around in wonder with him, and didn’t bother coming up with an answer to that comment.

The Diagonal Alley looked like a market place from fifty years ago—Harry knew because he had seen pictures of those old market-places before. There were shops for owls and cauldrons and _oh my god is that a shop for broomsticks_. The place was filled with people dressed in casual robes and very wizardry looking garb. Most of them were plain though, nothing as fancy as Uncle Stephen’s self-levitating cloak.

“Our first step is the Gringotts.” Lupin said, drawing Harry’s attention, “The bank of the wizardry world. Harry’s, ur, birth parents had a family vault, with inheritance left to Harry.” He glanced at Tony uneasily and snapped his mouth shut, as if mentioning Harry’s birth parents in front of Tony was a horrible idea. 

Adoptions _are_ harsh topics. Harry thought to himself. But really, Harry’s adoption was much better than most people had assumed. He was super content with his life considering the horrible childhoods Daddy and Papa lived. Really, the Avengers was just one huge “Shitty childhood club.” Aside from Dad and Papa, there was also Uncle Bruce and Uncle Clint and Aunt Natasha—Uncle Steve only got excluded because he didn’t have a supposedly complete family that betrayed him later like all the other Avengers’ family did, but growing up without a father sucked as well…

Tony kept mostly quiet, which Harry was immensely glad for. As far as the young wizard could tell, his father was all but absorbed in the energy signatures and data he was collecting from the scanners, and Harry wondered if Tony’s computers would work in Hogwarts. Mr. Lupin had said that no muggle technology work anywhere around wizards, but Tony’s suit worked fine here. But then Papa also had enchanted them with protective wards—maybe that was why.

Goblins were...not pretty was mild. And they had the smile like Daddy’s company’s shareholders’ pestered to their face which made Harry instantly dislike them. Going down into the vaults was fun—it included roller coasters, waterfalls, and _real dragons_! Apparently they were different from and less powerful than the dragons from Asgard and Vanaheim, but they were still _dragons_! Harry asked if he could keep one when he grows up, and Tony said “sure” distractedly. Harry noticed his father collecting the water from the waterfall, and secretly his eyes lit up. Of course they would be experimenting with magic items! He wondered if Daddy had collected Mr. Lupin’s blood or hair yet, but then Harry reckoned Tony would always ask first if his test subject include something alive and intelligent.

Mr. Lupin seemed very pale when he got down the cart. Harry checked over his illusions and everything else—they were still fine in place—and politely asked if Mr. Lupin was okay, and when the latter just jumped and mumbled an apology Harry shrugged. Maybe Mr. Lupin can’t stand high speed travel, like a side affect of being a werewolf or something. Harry had gotten used to flying around in the boots Tony designed for him, and sometimes even flying on Iron Man’s back, so roller coasters were really just a piece of cake for him.

It was astonishing how wizards store their money in golden coins, but then aside from being pretty and weighing a ton, golden coins was really not a great design for currency. And the exchange system, seriously? One Galleon is 17 Sickles which are 493 Knuts...Harry wondered if the wizardry government, if there was one, was seriously nut.

After Harry filled basically all his pockets with gold, the trio marched on to buying is school supplies. This part was more fun than finding out he was a wizard—Harry got to buy prank wizard toys (Harry bet they would work tremendously well on Uncle Clint) wizard books (uh-uh, less awesome than Papa and Uncle Stephen’s spell books) and a lot of strange materials (that was fun—Harry bought a double amount of what he should get and even more for Uncle Bruce to study.) Then Mr. Lupin led Harry to a Madam Malkin’s Robes for, obviously, robes. To Harry’s disappointment, all the robes there seemed to be plain with black as the only choice of color. And to his surprise, apparently all wizards have clothes tailored for themselves.

 _Probably because there was only such a small wizard community in the entire world._ Harry thought to himself.

 _Like Asgard._ Tom reminded him. _Remember how in Asgard everyone has their clothes made specifically to fit their body?_

 _Yes_. Harry nodded drily. _And all the clocks that do dramatic entrance sweep that make wearers look really really heroic when they’re doing anything. You think we can get something like that here?_

 _Doubt it._ Tom mumbled.

Getting fit for robes was going to take at least half an hour, and Harry saw no point in keeping Tony and Mr. Lupin around just to wait him out. He urged both of them to go out and buy something, and when Tony wanted to object Harry told him to go buy a present for Loki. “I want to see what you can come up with.” He grinned, “Then see how Papa’s gonna mock you for whatever it is.”

Tony raised a bemused eyebrow. “I doubt if anything _here_ would interest Lokes.” He smirked, “Well, kiddo, challenge accepted.”

The shop owner—Harry guessed her name was Malkin—watched the exchange with a smile before leading Harry to a seat. There was already another boy in the room, with pale skin and light blond hair and grey eyes, sitting calmly as a couple of rulers swam around him. Harry was led to sit down on a stool, and rulers jumped into the air and started circling him as well.

“Hello.” The boy sitting next to Harry gave him a long, pointed stare, “Hogwarts too?”

“Yea.“ Harry nodded dutifully. He returned the stare the boy gave him. _Think about all of Aunt Natasha’s trainings_ , he told himself quietly, except he couldn’t quite see anything “written plainly” on the boy’s face. Except perhaps the obvious arrogance—wizardry noble, maybe? Harry remembered Lupin saying something about the Potter house being noble, and the boy was acting exactly as someone growing up thinking himself better than anyone else would.

 _Honey, if that’s all you can see, you are never growing into a secret super spy._ Tom said drily.

Harry let out a long, suffering mental sigh while stayed completely still for the tape measure in reality. _This is the last goddamn year we’re stuck together._ He hissed to Tom. _When Papa has the spell ready and you separated, I’m going to punch you right in the face for all the annoyance you have been._

 _Uh-huh._ Tom sounded unimpressed. _Whatever, dear brother._

The pale boy was going on about his parents the time Harry conversed with Tom in his head. When he started talking about broomsticks, Harry’s attention perked up.

“The newest one is Nimbus 2000, right?” Harry asked, remembering what he saw in the window of a shop earlier.

“That’s right. My father is getting me one.” The boy turned to look at Harry. “Do you have a broom?”

“No.” Harry shrugged, eyeing the measuring tape carefully. They weren’t exactly draping all over him like they were doing with the boy, which was strange. “I only found out I’m a wizard today.”

“Oh.” The boy frowned. His gaze changed—now he looked indignant, and Harry had no idea what was wrong. “Your parents are _muggles_?”

 _Um, what do gods count as?_ Harry asked.

 _Just say yes._ Tom huffed.

“Yes.” Harry answered, the same time Madam Malkin spoke up for the first time after the brief conversation at the door. “My dear, you’ll have to remove the illusion spell before I can accurately measure you.” She said, “Can you contact your guardians? I can’t believe they forgot to remove the spell.”

The pale boy was still staring at him, but in a way that made Harry a bit uncomfortable. Still much better than the way a lot of reporters tend to stare, though, and Harry could certainly not flinch in that. “Um, do I need to remove all of it?” Harry asked,  uncertain. Sure, there shouldn’t be any…what do they call them, muggles? in a wizard town, but their trip was supposed to be a secret, and Mr. Lupin told him that even in the wizardry world Harry was really famous…

“Yes, dear.” Madam Malkin looked surprised that he would ask this question, and the pale boy just scowled. He looked like he was ready to snarl at Harry, but Harry wasn’t paying attention to him anyways. He reached down to his core and let the illusion drop, changing his hair colour back to the same shade of deep brown as Tony’s, and his eyes the same shade of emerald as Loki’s. Sometimes it was actually a surprise to Harry that he actually wasn’t genetically related to Tony and Loki. Like, seriously? He looked like a perfect combination of Daddy and Papa.

As Harry’s body frame also shifted, the pale boy drew in a sharp breath. Madam Malkin looked mildly surprised, but the tape measure resumed their job, this time actually starting to dance around and measure his body length. Harry guessed it made sense that he needed to be clear of the illusions for the rulers to function—otherwise, how is Madam Malkin supposed to make a robe that fit exactly Harry’s size?

“Do you like broomstick-flying?” Harry turned his head and asked, picking up the conversation where he remembered was left, but the boy was just staring at him with an astonished look now.

“You, you’re Harry Potter.” He stumbled out, looking nervous and agitated all of a sudden.

 _You_ _are_ _famous in wizard world, aren’t you._ Tom said, amused.

 _Shut up_. Harry said. “My last name is actually Stark-Lokason now. But yes. And you are?”

The boy’s gaze traveled to Harry’s forehead, and Harry knew what he was looking for. The lightning scar that basically identified him as a person. Yep.

“Draco Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you.” The boy said, lifting his chin. Then he frowned. “Did you just lie to me? Your parents can’t be muggles if you are the _Harry Potter_.”

“You mean my birth parents, then.” Harry said. Mr. Lupin has told him that much, “I guess they weren’t.”

“And you’re raised by muggles.” Malfoy looked thoughtful, “They must be pretty terrible then, I heard—”

“My parents are fine.” Harry snapped. Now this was a subject absolutely no one had the right to touch, “They are _the best_ and don’t try arguing otherwise.”

Malfoy looked displeased. “Surely you can’t believe that muggles are—”

 _Calm down_ , _bro_. Tom said in Harry’s head. _He_ ’ _s just one person. Imagine him as an awful hater. Don_ ’ _t start lecturing him or anything._

Harry ignored him. “What made you think muggles are horrible?” He asked, irritated, “You don’t even know my family.”

“Muggles—” Malfoy started again, but cut himself off when Harry glared at him. “You’ll change that thought when you understand what we wizards should live like.” He announced in the end, firmly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Well, challenge accepted.” He said, just like how Tony said his line minutes ago, “I’ll show you how awesome _my_ family is.”

Malfoy looked interested, but before he could answer Madam Malkin said to Harry: “My dear, you’re good to go.”

Harry slid down the stool and began fumbling in his pocket. He found a golden ball and pressed it into Malfoy’s hand. “Smash it on the ground and a portal would appear. Step into it and you’ll find yourself in my home. The circle would only last for ten minutes though.” He flashed a charming smile at Malfoy’s stunned expression, “I’ll be expecting to see you in the next month, before school starts...if you're up to it.”

“Wait—” Malfoy called, but Harry was already hurrying out of the shop. 

***

When Draco reached home that day, he took the golden sphere out of his pocket, put it on his nightstand, and stared at it, hard.

What in Merlin's name happened today?

He met Harry Potter—who refused the name Potter—and found out that he was a muggle lover. Like Dumbledore—of course. But that's forgivable, if he had really grown up with filthy muggles, and his blood was still pure. Then, before he raced away, Potter caster this ball into his hand and claimed it had the function of a port key...which was impossible. Draco had the family wards double triple and quadruple checked.

Is it possible that The-Boy-Who-Lived was insane? That sounded like he most plausible explanation right now.

Oh Merlin, what had those muggles done. Draco thought, aghast. He stared at the ball even harder before Narcissa came up to call him down for dinner. He slowly got up, and turned away from the sphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should say this before anyone gets confused - 
> 
> Tom doesn't remember anything. I set it so that Loki used Eternal Flames on him when he discovered this weird thing in Harry's head (about when Harry's 4), which erased all Tom's previous memories and gave him consciousness. So he basically grew up as Harry's brother...if that makes sense?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tour in the tower

Draco never thought of mentioning the whole encounter with Potter to anyone, before he accidentally tripped and smashed the golden ball on the ground and it turned into a freaking sparkling transportation circle right in front of his eyes. He yelped indignantly before the rune stabilized and seemed to be safe to walk through now. Maybe it wasn't the best decision he had ever made, but curiosity drove him forward and a few seconds later he found himself in the middle of a...strange looking room.

It looked extremely reflective—every surface. All its walls seemed to have been replaced with glasses, looking out to the sunny sky. The floor were all dark black marble, cleaned to reflect the ceiling perfectly, and looking around Draco saw furnitures that he could identify but with style too plain for a manor. But then again, it was not a manor, and Draco found himself liking this kind of simplistic decorations.

He stood in the middle of the room, feeling out of place. Is this what muggle homes look like? It was completely different from the shabby kind of place Draco had imagined.

What did Potter tell him again? That at the other end of the port key he would be in his home. Alright, so he was here, accidentally, and Merlin helps him let Potter be home. There was no way Draco could find his own way back to the Malfoy Manor without at least using floo.

A voice suddenly started behind him. "Mr. Malfoy." Draco turned around, wide eyed, but he didn't see anyone. The voice continued, "I have alerted your presence to young sir. He shall be with you soon."

"Who are you?" Draco asked, eyes darting around. This place was just so...alien to him that he almost regretted coming at all. Why did he trip and open the portal in the first place???

"You may call me JARVIS, Mr. Malfoy." The voice said.

At this, there was sound of doors opening, and when Draco turned he found, almost in a wave of relief, that Potter had showed up. "Potter." He greeted, mostly because he didn't know what else to say.

“Hi Draco.” Potter grinned, bouncing into the room in a 200% un-noble fashion, “Really, you could’ve called beforehand. How’s your summer?”

“As perfect as it should and can be.” Draco answered stiffly, still not knowing what the heck he was doing here.

“Okay.” Potter studied him for a second before turning away, “I promised you a tower tour last time, didn’t I? Before that, anything to drink? Are you staying for dinner? I don’t usually have that much people over so help me out?”

“No, thank you.” Draco answered, looking around. “This is your home.”

“Yep.” Potter nodded, then called, “JARVIS, tower map please. Cross out any area Dad put as Security Clearance Level 2 and above.”

“As you wish, sir.” It was that voice from the walls again.

A blue illusion popped up in front of Potter, and Draco nearly jumped. It took a lot of restraint to remain in his own skin, and he stared at the blue projected building wide-eyed. This is typical muggle…what? It was so much like magic, but Draco was sure it wasn’t. Or was it? He thought shakily. If that’s true, the whole wizardry world will need to reconstruct their world view.

“Holographic display, my dad invented it.” Potter pointed at the blue projection, “and that was JARVIS. Quite surprising that you didn’t jump at his voice. He’s an artificial intelligence program that runs the whole tower. Most of us consider him my brother.”

 _That’s because I already jumped before._ “He is...a soul entrapped in the walls?” Draco asked, unsure.

Potter chuckled. “That’s what my Uncle Thor said the first time he met J. No, my dad created him. But he has feeling too and you’re better off thinking about him as my brother.” 

And it was getting weirder and weirder, Draco thought.

“Alright, let’s go.” Potter reaches out and grabbed Draco’s sleeves. Which was extremely rude considering everything, but Draco was too numb to object right now.

He kept his mouth shut, and followed Potter into the little box he called “elevator.” When the door closed behind them, Draco swallowed uneasily and thought about everything he had seen.

Yes, the wizardry world does really need to change their world view on the muggles...

***

A tour finished, Draco felt dizzy. It felt worse than being hit by a _Confundus_ , because he knew that everything was real.

Or maybe it _was_ a _Confundus_? He’d rather it be a _Confundus_.

He met some of Potter’s “extended family members,” including a woman who looked more fierce and scary than Severus Snape. The tour in the “less private labs” were mind blowing to say the least. If those are what muggles are working on, well wizards can sooner die and not recognize the other parts of the world.

The only (maybe) part of everything that seemed a bit comforting was knowing the fact that, Potter did grow up with a few wizards close by. One of his fathers (god, Draco still wasn’t over the thought of someone having two fathers) and his “Uncle Stephen” were both magically trained, except they preferred to call themselves “sorcerer” instead of wizards. Draco argued that being able to use magic means they were wizards, and Potter just stared at him and told him his father wasn’t human.

Right. Draco really wanted to fall asleep and forget about all this.

The other comforting part was that, as it turned out, muggle food was a hundred times worse than what House elves were capable of making. Draco really had no idea whether he should feel sad or happy about that.

A calm-looking man (who had apparently developed extremely dangerous muggle products including transforming himself into a...what?) directed the duo to another “teleportation sphere” (seriously, why couldn’t they take the name “port key?”) and set it up to link to the one Draco used before. Draco’s brain was completely fried by this point, but an alarm still rang at this.

How can they possibly use magic to find Malfoy Manor when the wards around the manor should’ve blocked every and all detecting charms?

“Different kind of magic, I guess.” Potter shrugged, “Didn’t I just tell you that none of my family members are normal?”

 _And that was exactly why they didn’t freak out when they found out you’re a wizard._ Draco said quietly in his mind. He waved Potter goodbye politely and stepped into the circle, and the next second he found himself in his room again.

He took a few minutes to take a deep breath and calm down, then he walked up the stairs. He found himself strangely missing the “elevator” at Potter’s house—didn’t he say it was located 87 floors above ground? Thinking about climbing _all_ _that_ staircases.

“Father, I need to tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously don't know what this chapter is about. However, it is necessary because I need something to change Draco's view on muggles...so I let Harry give him a tour in the most high-tech place you can find in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the train station.

“Just so you know, I _am_ planning to branch into the wizardry world now that you’re going to school there.”

“Yes, Dad, I know, please don’t crush their economy.” Harry reassured again, looking down at his trunk, “Papa, keep Daddy safe, Okay?”

“Kid!” Tony huffed. Loki smiled and threw an arm around him: “Of course. Anthony is safe under my watch.”

Harry nodded solemnly, ignoring Tony’s yelps. The platform number is 9 and 3/4? Huh, he seemed to have forgotten to ask Mr. Lupin how to get to places like that...

“Look around carefully.” Loki suggested, a ghost of smile playing on his lips, “Master illusions.”

Oh well. Harry thought, glancing around. He wasn’t as good in illusions as Loki was, and surely he couldn’t see through illusions as easily, but after some trainings he was sure he could identify most of them. After a careful surveying, Harry focused onto the wall between platform 9 and 10. It seemed...distorted?

“Good. Now you’ve spot it.” Loki smiles again, “What do you propose?”

“Running through it.” Harry said, “looks like a portal.”

Tony glanced at his watch, which was showing a small interface recording all the energy disturbance in the surrounding. “It’s different from the kind of portal made by the Tesseract. And different from Strange’s sparkles. Huh.”

Harry just stared at the wall for a second, before turning around and extending his arms to hug his parents. “I’ll miss you.” He said quietly.

“And I You.” Tony whispered, and Loki hugged him tightly. “You sure you don’t want us to go through with you? Pretty sure it can’t pierce Lokes’ wards.”

“No thanks.” Harry straightened up. “I mean, if I can’t manage a train station on my own, I probably wouldn’t survive a magic school.” And when Tony opened his mouth, he hastily reminded him, “And I chose to come, and I have Tom with me. Stop worrying, Dad!”

“He always will.” Loki answered for Tony, “Remember to call us if anything happens.”

“Try not to sneak in.” Harry said solemnly. Because, well, his parents certainly had the power to do such. 

Tony smirked and blew him a kiss, then Harry turned towards the wall.

“Alright.” He said to himself, “Let’s go.”

_You may want to run_. Tom suggested.

Harry walked right through the wall, and suddenly his surroundings changed. He felt like he had run through air, but when he looked back he saw the wall as solid as ever. Picking up his trunk he reached in his pocket and tried the newest enchanted StarkPhone first.

Still had signals. Well, if it could have signal on Asgard (he still had no idea how Uncle Stephen accomplished that) it certainly could have all the signals it wanted on Earth. Never even mind that Papa double-enchanted it to pierce through wards set up by anyone less skilled than him...Harry probably wouldn’t need to worry about communication anytime soon.

But Daddy would still be having a hard time making StarkPhone work in wizardry world though. It’s not like he could ask Papa and Uncle Stephen to enchant every product of his for him...well, another piece of challenge?

Harry smiled at himself, remembering the beautiful green dragon scale Dad managed to get in Diagonal Alley during their shopping trip. Apparently things like that were rare in even wizardry world, and Mr. Lupin was officially mind-blown after that. He stared at Tony like he was an alien, and before he left he told Harry that he was glad Harry had such an awesome family. Harry wasn’t going to disagree with that.

Through the excited crowds Harry managed to slip onto the train early, and he took an empty compartment near the last carriage. He shove the luggage under his seat and washed off his illusion, and picked up a textbook and started reading. He wasn’t exactly interested in walking around the train and meeting people—aside from whatever he had said, he still was nervous about his new school. Schooling never worked out as much as everyone preferred for him, being a known (albeit adopted) child of Tony Stark. Then Loki got added to the equation and...boom?

Harry shoved that train of thought away. He would rather not think about torture and mind control and all the other crap in Papa’s family. At some point when he’s strong enough, Harry would kill Thanos and avenge his father. What he did was way pass the threshold of “not okay.”

Maybe it would be better in wizardry world, where no one know anything about the Avengers.

_I like Slytherin._ Tom said, peering at the book. Harry focused back onto the book and hummed.

_Papa’s probably a Slytherin, if anything. Dad’s a Gryffindor, going by colour_.

_Or they can be both Ravenclaw._ Tom suggested. _Two of the brightest minds in the Nine Realms._

“Of course.” Harry mumbled out loud, flipping through the pages. He had gone through all his spell books at least once in the last month, but he wasn’t allowed to use his wand. Which made sense for a kid actually living with muggles, but with Dad and Papa it was a different story for Harry. He restrained himself from breaking the rule before even going to the school, and contented himself with examining magical material under scanners and microscopes. Even Loki seemed surprised that there were so many different types of magical creatures living on Earth.

The history of Hogwarts was intriguing, almost as interesting as learning about Asgard’s history. He mused over the fact that Slytherins are really keen on blood purist views, and quietly said to Tom: _I think Draco would be a Slytherin_.

_He and his stupid prejudice against Dad._ Tom huffed. He didn’t mention Loki, because obviously Malfoy still considered a sorcerer a wizard, even though Harry had pointed out that Loki was actually an alien. _I wish he had picked a day Dad’s actually at home to visit, although I’m sure Aunt Tasha and Uncle Bruce certainly made an impression on him._

_Tough luck._ Harry thought. Tony and Loki were always so busy these days, still in the process of helping rebuild New York after the invasion last year, and accompanying him all the way here was probably the most time Dad could spare without Aunt Pepper yelling in his ears. He knew that Dad probably felt extremely guilty for not being around more, because of his own childhood where his father always wasn’t around, but Harry had passed the stage of complaining already. Really, between the half-destroyed city and a kid going to school, _Harry_ felt guilty for taking away Dad’s time.

_Don’t fret, Dad’s always gonna be there for us._ Tom reassured him. 

_Of course_. Harry thought, silently turning another page. 

That was when the door opened. A girl with brown hair peeked in. “Excuse me, is anyone sitting here—is that _Hogwarts: A History_?” Her voice raises to a squeak after she glanced in the compartment, and Harry saw her eyes lit up.

_Ooh, someone interesting_. Tom sang.

“Yes. Come in if you want.” Harry moved over towards the window a bit.

_Um, I suppose you should put up your illusions again._ Tom said.

_Oh god. I think it’s too late already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up...in about three days?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione.

“STARK-LOKASON? OH MY GOD YOU ARE A WIZARD TOO?”

“Yes, please, calm down, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger. God, I can’t believe I get to meet you.” The girl sat down heavily beside Harry, peering at him excitedly, “Your dad is really awesome! I mean, you’re awesome too, but I’ve never dreamt meeting you in person! I thought maybe I would apply for the Talented Youth Intern at Stark Industry when I pass the age limit, but oh my god—”

“It’s alright. I don’t bite.” Harry assured her. He wasn’t really expecting someone to recognize him as Stark-Lokason…seems like he had the luck to meet a witch who actually knows something about the normal “muggle” world. “You can call me Harry.”

“Harry, oh my—” Hermione suddenly swallowed, seeing Harry’s polite smile. “I’m sorry. I got a bit over-excited. I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable—oh god, I just made you feel more uncomfortable, didn’t I.” At this, Harry raised a bemused eyebrow. She was nowhere as annoying as some other people he had met, but she was definitely the first to acknowledge and address her own problem. “Um, so. You’re reading _Hogwarts: A History_?”

“Yea.” Harry was secretly glad that the topic was changed. He glanced down at the book, “Just finishing up.”

“I went through all my textbooks three times.” Hermione said, “I’m actually really excited to find out that I’m a witch—oh, my parents are dentists.”

Harry thought about it. “I can’t say I’m not excited, but there’s my father. You know.”

 _Why did you direct the topic back there?_ Tom hissed.

_Shit, didn’t realize._

“Oh.” Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, “So your father—Loki—it’s true—umm…?”

“Yes, and he _was_ mind-controlled. Topic change, please?”

“Of course.” Hermione stumbled, turning to stare at somewhere else, “Um, have you been practicing magic then?”

Magic? “Aren’t we not allowed to use wands unsupervised?”

“I practiced with a chopstick, and the rule doesn’t extend to the train.” Hermione said, taking out her wand. It had different patterns than Harry’s, but made of wood and pretty and elegant nonetheless. “I got it right before I get on the train, so…” She took in a deep breath, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

The _Hogwarts: A History_ dutifully floated in front of Harry. The boy let out a surprised yelp before Hermione lowered it onto the small table in front of them. “That’s the first spell we will learn.” She said, beaming, “I’m sure you’ve seen it.”

 _Is that a challenge? I’m sensing a challenge_. Tom hissed in Harry’s head.

Harry stared at the book skeptically, before he reached down into his core. A gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and lifted the book up, albeit wobbly, and flipped open the page. Harry concentrated onto controlling the energy flow around him, and carefully turned the book around.

“Wow.” Hermione was gaping at the scene.

“That’s kind of cheating though.” Harry said sincerely, “I’m not using the spell wizards are supposed to be using. If anything, this is probably Aesir magic. Or using wizard magic in a different way.”

“I _so_ envy you. Knowledge from _all_ over the Nine Realms. I wish I could learn all that.” Hermione joked. Harry had a distinct feeling that she probably would be going to Ravenclaw, if what the books said were actually true.

The door was suddenly thrown open. Harry dropped the book to the ground and looked up, startled to see Draco’s pale face. Two other boys were following him closely, but Draco shoved them away and slipped in. “Potter.” He said mildly, almost as a greeting.

Hermione was staring at Draco, probably thinking how the heck can anyone be this rude. And that was what Harry was thinking too. “Fifth time, Draco. Harry or Stark-Lokason. Take your pick.”

Draco frowned. “And for the fifth time, P— _Harry,_ you’re not chaining the noble name Potter for that stupid name.”

“What!” Hermione yelled at that, “How can you say something like that!”

“And you are?” Draco turned to Hermione.

 _Oh wow this is going to go well._ Tom whispered.

Harry interrupted Hermione before she could answer. “Draco, meet Hermione Granger, and Hermione, meet Draco Malfoy. Hermione’s parents are both muggles, and no, Draco, you’re not going to make a fuss. Please be polite.” He shot Hermione an apologetic look, and the girl glanced at him before turning her head and looking determinedly down at the _Hogwarts: A History_.

Draco looked disgusted, but the next second he managed to conceal his expression and sat against the seat with his back extremely straight. 

“Nice to meet you?” Hermione prompted after a period of silence.

“It’s a pleasure.” Draco said, but it was clear that he was on autopilot right now. He didn’t reach out to shake Hermione’s hand either, and he certainly didn’t seem pleased.

 _He probably hates Hermione_. Tom said quietly.

_What, just because her parents are muggles? That’s stupidity._

_Blood purist_ _are_ _stupid._

 _Oh well, it’s gonna be a long trip_. Harry thought to Tom.

***

Draco left the compartment a few minutes later, still refusing to talk to Hermione. The girl relaxed noticeably after that, and Harry picked up his book again. 

Hermione was peering at him curiously. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, apparently Draco’s from a noble family that cares about blue-blood.” Harry said.

“So I’m a peasant just because my parents aren’t wizards.” Hermione huffed, “That’s mean.”

“At least he didn’t curse at you.” Harry shrugged, fiddling with his hair.

“You know him?” Hermione asked, skeptical.

“I met him when Mr. Lupin took me to Diagonal Alley. He was pretty persistent, you know, but I played nice.” Harry recounted, “Then I gave him a tour around the Stark Tower and at least he stopped calling muggles ants.” 

“Didn’t Loki say something like that at some point?” Hermione asked, then blushed, “Oh, sorry, I don’t mean to...”

“He did.” Harry shrugged dismissively, not wanting to discuss this topic anymore, “Which House do you like best?”

Hermione perked up at the topic. “Well,” she started, “I think I’m between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw because there are so many books and libraries, and Gryffindor because of the courage and righteousness and everything. I think I’ll fit Gryffindor.”

“What about the other two?” Harry asked.

“Not Hufflepuff really. I’m not that kind of...person. Doesn’t fit me.” Hermione said, “And Slytherin is horrible. You-Know-Who was in that House and...”

 _That’s prejudice too_. Tom said, unhappy. 

“Just so you know, that’s also prejudice.” Harry echoed, “I thought you’d fit Ravenclaw. I think I’m going to Gryffindor. I’m never as smart as my parents but at least I can be nice and courageous.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up again. “Wow, right, you lived in a perfect Gryffindor-Slytherin compacted family, don’t you?”

“It’s hard to distinguish, really. They can be both Ravenclaw as far as I know. And there’s also everyone else...Uncle Steve is a Gryffindor for sure. Uncle Thor is between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Uncle Clint is probably Hufflepuff, Aunt Natasha is between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. I don’t know where to put Uncle Bruce, but I guess Ravenclaw fit best.” Harry paused, “My biological parents are both Gryffindor though.”

“Oh, you found out about your biological parents?”

“Yea.” Harry nodded, staring down at the book, “The Potter family. I don’t know anything about them.”

“The Potter...” Hermione trailed off. Harry looked up and saw her expression, and almost instantly he winced.

“HARRY POTTER?!!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorting happens.

The rest of the train ride consisted of chatting and snacks and a lot of reading. A pair of red haired twins intruded at one point, selling candies that turn people into butterflies, and Harry learnt their names as George and Fred Weasley. Hermione piped up and said something about the Weasley family that she had read from books, and Harry decided to mail the candy back home when he gets to the school.

“Do you have an owl?” Hermione asked when Harry talked about his plan.

“School should have a public ones.” Harry shrugged, then said truthfully, “I don’t want to keep pets, at least not now. It might sound stupid but I'm waiting to get something more...special.”

“Okay.” Hermione shrugged, then turned towards the window. “Is that Hogwarts?”

Harry turned around with her. Indeed, the train window was now showing the Great Lake and the castle behind it, and Harry’s eyes momentarily widened. It was a pretty view, everything from mysterious to elegant, very different from Uncle Stephen’s sanctum and Asgard. The castle stood in the last gleam of dusk, in the mountains and forests, as if silently waiting...

_I feel like I’ve been here before._ Tom whispered, sounding a bit confused.

_Maybe_. Harry thought absentmindedly, too busy staring at the ancient castle.

First year students were hauled off to the boats to sail across the lake, which was apparently a tradition. After some chaos Harry and Hermione ended up in a boat with a red-haired boy with freckles on his face and another round faced boy who was holding a toad like it was his life.

“Hello.” Said the red haired boy. He looked really like Fred and George, thought Harry, and his next words confirmed Harry’s guess. “I’m Ron Weasley. This is Neville Longbottom.”

“Nice to meet you, Hermione Granger.” Hermione said, and Harry followed: “Harry Stark-Lokason.”

The inside of the castle was as pretty and ancient as Harry had imagined, all very Oxford styled (he’s been in that university a couple times) with chandeliers and paintings. The more freaky thing was that those paintings could move—people inside walked around, greeting others and peering at the first years. The professor—an old, stern-looking lady named McGonagall—led the students through the hall.

“You know how we’re going to get sorted?” Somewhere behind Harry, he heard Ron whispering, “Fred and George told me we have to wrestle a troll.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione said back, looking up at a ghost excitedly, “It’s going to be a hat.”

Harry recalled reading about it in _Hogwarts: A History_. He wondered how the hat really determines someone’s “fit”—by looking into their thoughts? By talking to them? Harry really wasn’t a fan of mind invasion, but he supposed it should be safe if all those students were using it?

The first thing the hat did was, well, sing an absolutely horrible song. According to _Hogwarts: A History_ , it varies each year, but it always give the students an overview of what each House is like. 

“When I call your names,” Professor McGonagall said, “You’ll each walk up and put on the hat. Let’s see...Abbott, Hannah!”

A girl with blonde pig tail walked up, face flushed with excitement. Harry stared at her for a second before moving his gaze to scan the whole hall again. Look at the other students already seated in their tables and the Head Table. The wizard sitting in the middle Harry recognized as Albus Dumbledore, the “most powerful” wizard in this era. Harry didn’t particularly liked the old man and the Mona Lisa smile on his face—it felt as if he was planning something all the time, and it felt like watching Director Fury smiling like a saint. It sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

Beside him sat all the teachers in the school. It was quite a miracle to think that the school had only less than twenty teachers...but then there were also less than five hundred kids in the school. He was really getting curious as to how the wizardry curriculum work now.

“Granger, Hermione!”

Harry’s attention snapped back to the sorting ceremony. The hat took a few moments before calling out “GRYFFINDOR.” Harry applauded for her.

It came to “Malfoy, Draco!” a while later, and the hat had barely touched Draco’s head before screaming out “SLYTHERIN.” Draco looked smug as he took the hat down, and the two of them briefly locked eyes. Harry beamed at him as Draco slid towards the Slytherin table, and Harry saw a couple students shuffling to give Draco a seat of the best view.

_Nobles. Right._

Then it came, although Harry really wasn’t expecting it. 

“Potter, Harry!”

Whispers spread amongst the crowd. Harry was staring at the ceilings right now—it was showing the stars, and even though it was less impressing than seeing the stars from Asgard, it was beautiful. Mesmerizing. 

“Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall called again.

Only when people started shuffling around did Harry noticed something was wrong. He looked around and caught Draco’s eyes again, who was making a frantic gesture for him to go up, and then Hermione, who was mouthing something he couldn’t really see. It took Harry another minute before he remembered.

_Oh right. Harry_ _Potter_ _._

He walked forward, and people around him gasped. Ron was staring at him with a hurt expression, and Harry could hear people going “ _The_ Harry Potter??” all around him. He paid no attention to the gazes on him, and walked up calmly until he was standing in front of Professor McGonagall. Then he opened his mouth.

“Professor, I believe there’s been a mistake.” He said softly. Somehow the hall suddenly quieted down, to the point where Harry’s every word was clear as crystal even though he didn’t raise his voice. “I have changed my last name to Stark-Lokason when I was adopted by my parents, and I believe your documents requires immediate update.” He paused for a second, “I respect the name Potter, but please don’t refer to me as ‘Mr. Potter.’ It’s no longer my legal name and I don’t want people confused.”

Silence. For a minute, no one said a word. Then Professor McGonagall slowly nodded. “Very well, Mr. Stark-Lokason.” She said, “Please put on the Sorting Hat.”

Harry obeyed. Before the rim covered his views, he heard the hall bursted into discussions, as people yell over each other’s shoulder about just what the heck had happened.

Then it was silence. Darkness covered his view, a voice started mumbling in his head. “Difficult, ooh, very difficult. I can see courage, loyalty, and wisdom all condensed in you! Hmm…where should I put you…”

“Should I be flattered?” Harry mumbled.

“Of course, dear boy, your accomplishment will be great—the road that lies ahead of you!”

_Don’t you think that hat is nut_? Tom asked, his voice bemused.

“Oh my, is that another soul in you?” Suddenly the hat sounded excited. “Interesting, very interesting. So where do _you_ want to go?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be picking?” Harry inquired. Then he thought over it—so far, he had preferred Gryffindor, but that preference was based only in theory, and everyone knows how different reality can be from those. He couldn’t possibly know what people in Gryffindor are really like before he enrolled in the school, and supposedly he should picking the House that would benefit himself the most. It’s the same way picking universities—pick the one that fit you best, not the one that someone else said was best.

“I like your thinking patterns. Maybe Ravenclaw.” The hat considered, “Or maybe not…I see your life, your family…”

_Can it decide already?_ Tom sounded bored.

“So impatient. Your friend Tom would certainly go to Slytherin if there’s any chance I’m sorting him.” The hat said, “Oh no—no, dear, Slytherin isn’t a ‘blood purist’ house. That’s completely misdirected, if anything. What people today say! Slytherin represents cunningness, a wisdom no dimmer than those of Ravenclaw’s…you’d do well in that House too, with your talent. It will lead you to glory.”

_Seriously, glory?_ Tom said drily. Harry had no doubt that he was thinking about Thor type glory.

“But the things you’ve endured, witnessed—the tragical life…Hmm, Slytherin would strengthen your coldness…”

“My life’s not tragical.” Harry furrowed his brows.

“I never said it was _your_ life that’s tragical.” The hat mused, “I suppose you’ve had enough of my talking, dear child. So—GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry blinked real hard at that. For a second, he actually thought the hat was going to offer him Slytherin—he means, that's basically all they talked about! How did it decide Gryffindor in the end?

Through the deafening cheers, Tom threw a few threads of memories of Harry doing stupid things at him, very clearly communicating the idea that of course his recklessness fit Gryffindor. Harry puffed, taking a seat next to Hermione. The girl beamed at him and patted his shoulder, shouting over the still loud voice: “Congrats, Harry!” Then she paused and asked, more quietly, “You were up there for quite a bit—did the hat talk to you?”

“Yea.” Harry nodded and whispered to her, “It’s really chatty.”

Hermione let out a quiet chuckle before turning back to focus on the ceremony again. The older boy sitting across the table introduced himself as Percy Weasley (Harry wondered just how many kids did the Weasley family had??) and congratulated him in an excited tone. Harry smiled politely, promptly ignoring all the whispers he had heard about him. He searched across the Great Hall and caught Draco staring at him at the Slytherin table. Harry gestured a thumbs up and beamed brightly; Draco hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture, then hastily turned around to talk with a black haired girl beside him, resolved to not look at Harry anymore. Harry found his lips curling up uncontrollably at the blond boy’s reactions.

And Harry turned his gaze to the Head Table again. _Something felt weird_ , Harry thought. He scanned around the table and locked eyes with a menacing looking, black robed man. He was staring at Harry like he hated him or something…

_The Defence teacher_. Tom said. _The one we saw in Diagonal Alley. He’s giving me a weird feeling._

Before they arrived at the Diagonal Alley, they had crossed a small pub and Mr. Lupin had pointed out a man who was apparently Harry’s new Defence Against Dark Arts teacher—the one that looked funny with cloth all around his head. Harry shifted his gaze and squinted at the man, and suddenly he felt a stabbing pain in his scar. “Ouch.” Harry mumbled, lowering his head.

Fortunately no one seemed to have noticed. Moments later, the sorting ceremony ended, and Professor Dumbledore stood up.

The feast began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Harry to still be in Gryffindor so...there we go. 
> 
> About the name Potter. Well, it's mentioned before that his last name did change...actually I'm making his full name Harold James Stark-Lokason (since "Harold" still shortens as "Harry", then keeping "James" as his middle name.) This name has significance in Iron Man content - let's see who can spot it first :D
> 
> The tragic lives the hat talked about was mostly about Tony and Loki. Welp, one got kidnapped by terrorist and ended up with some shrapnels in his chest and the other got kidnapped and _brainwashed_ by a badass alien...Harry's witnessed quite some horrible stuff in his last ten years living with these two.
> 
> Hope none of this is too weird to accept...Next time I'll be posting two chapters together (don't like cliffhangers so) which will happen in approx. five days


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some discussion about magic?
> 
> Draco POV

Draco was on his way back to the Slytherin common room with Crabbe and Goyle when Harry (he still refused to call him Stark-Lokason, just because that name was so abominably long) rushed up to him. “What?” He asked as Harry literally crushed into him.

“Sorry,” Harry said, a bit breathless, “Draco, I need your help. It’s the first week and I’m failing class already.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Potions?” He guessed. As usual, Severus picked on Gryffindors a lot during their Potions class, but this time he seemed to be especially focused on Harry. Draco may not want to admit it, but he _was_ keeping an eye on the intriguing boy he had met at Diagonal Alley—and saw how Severus managed to deduct ten points from Harry even though Harry had not mess up one single step during the Potion brewing. Draco wouldn’t even be surprised if Severus would give Harry a P just for one grammar error in his essay.

“No, Charms. Help please?” Harry said, reaching out to grab Draco’s wrist. Draco allowed him and waved Crabbe and Goyle off, frowning as he tried to remember what charms they were learning in the class. Ah, right, that one—

“The wand-lighting charm?” He asked incredulously, “You’re having trouble performing the _wand-lighting charm_?? It’s literally the—”

“Easiest, simplest, uncomplicated, basic, I get it—Hermione’s already been digging in the Thesaurus.” Harry said impatiently, “That’s not where I’m stuck though—and I can’t do what I’m doing now in front of Professor Flitwick.”

They came to an empty classroom, and a brown-haired witch was waiting for them at the door. Recognizing the girl, Draco barely suppressed his instinct to walk away as she called out: “Harry! Back in here—hi Malfoy.”

“Granger.” Draco said tonelessly, tilting his head towards Harry, “Why is she here?”

“To help me.” Harry said, too distracted to notice Draco’s discomfort, “Get in here. I’ll show you.”

Draco walked in with him slowly, avoiding looking at Hermione. From the three days they’ve had schools together, Draco had recognized the witch as particularly knowledgeable, even when compared to some Slytherins, but even if that had earned some of Draco’s respect it didn’t change the fact that her parents are both _muggles_. Draco’s viewpoints on muggles might had changed after last summer and some research on Harry’s parents, but he was still having trouble not showing disgust when confronting a mudbl—muggle-born. Thinking about it, it made sense Harry would ask her for help though; after all, they were in the same house.

Harry shut the door and the blind on the window. Hermione pulled out her wand first and whispered a _Lumos_ , casting a soft glow of light in the now dark classroom. Draco blinked slowly—just what are they doing here? It’s looking suspiciously like the start of some kind of dark ritual…

“Draco, can you just watch my movement and see what’s wrong?” Harry asked. “And, be prepared to shut your eyes.”

“ _What_?” Draco asked, but Harry had already pulled out his wand. Without a word, Draco focused onto Harry’s hands, catching his movements. Hermione still had her wand out

“ _Lumos_!” Harry cried, while drawing his wand in the perfect hand movement. A spark of glowing light lit up on his wand end, illuminating the classroom. Draco frowned, and looked up to Harry: “That’s correct. What is wrong—”

The white light exploded. It grew brighter and brighter until Draco had to shut his eyes, and then block his face with his arms, but still the light managed to penetrate through and make his eyelids orange. Then the heat started. It started as a burning sensation on his arms, like he was approaching a fireplace too close, as Hermione screamed: “ _Finite Incantatem_! (which Draco had no idea where she learned, and which also, for the record, did absolutely nothing against the still-increasing light and heat) Harry, stop!”

“ _Nox_!” Draco heard Harry say, then the blinding light stopped. The heat also vanished in a split second, and Draco slowly lowered his arms. In front of him stood Harry Stark-Lokason, completely unharmed by the excessive use of magic, looking extremely sheepish. “Sorry about that.” He said, then asked hopefully, “Draco, did you catch what’s wrong? It’s happening every time I cast the spell.”

“And as far as I can tell,” Hermione added, “There’s nothing wrong with his hand movement and pronunciations.”

Draco took in a deep breath. Now he understood why the two of them would need to lock the door and close the blinds before letting Harry perform his spell. “Are you sure you’re not using _Lumos Maxima_ instead?”

“First of all, he’s not flicking his wand twice.” Hermione said before Harry could answer. Draco shot her an annoyed glance, but decided to listen anyways. “If he is to try _Lumos Maxima_ , I bet he’s going to create a sun in here, then we’re all going to die.” She said, then went and patted the curtain covering the windows—they were a bit fried, Draco noticed.

Draco furrowed his brows. Why would a simple _Lumos_ have such a huge effect?? Blinding lights and heat that charred its surroundings—if Lumos can be used like that it would certainly be useful in combats. Or maybe it’s not heat—then thinking about it, it did still look like a wand-lighting spell, just with too strong an effect, and—

Too strong an effect? Something clicked in Draco’s head. But it sounded too impossible to be true...

“Why didn’t you ask Professor Flitwick?” Draco asked, “He probably knows more about this situation than any of us.”

Harry just shook his head, and Hermione rolled her eyes. “If none of me, you, the Gryffindor Prefect, or the Ravenclaw Prefect can figure out what’s going on, he’ll ask.” She puffed, “Just because he doesn’t want to talk to teachers! Isn’t that stupid?”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Harry protested, “And it’s not stupid! I just don’t want to get kicked out of the school the first day!”

“Professor Flitwick is not kicking you out of school!”

“Alright.” Draco said, cutting off the argument that was going way off topic, “Well, this is a blind shot in the dark, but are you, by any chance, pouring all your magic into the spell?” This was the first thing that came to Draco’s mind—excessive use of magic produce more intense results, it’s that simple. 

“Yes.” Harry answered, surprised by the question, “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

_Alright_ , _so that_ ’ _s the problem._ “Of course not!” Draco said, the gear in his head slowly turning. “First of all it’s inefficient—you’ll need to be ready to fire multiple spells in split seconds and using all your magic reserve to prepare for one spell is stupid. And it’s not safe either! Did none of your guardians told you that you should never, never, ever, put that much magic into your wand? It might _fry_. Then you’ll get hurt as well.” He paused, then reconsidered the problem. “Where did you get all that magic from in the first place?” He asked suspiciously, “Even adult wizards may not be able to pull off a _Lumos_ like that. And just where did you learn to access all your magic reserve?”

Harry didn’t answer. He was staring at his wand, wide-eyed, like it was going to grow three heads at any moment. “It’s going to _fry_?” He asked, sounding frightened. Draco sighed inwardly—of _course_ that was the only thing Harry had heard in his entire speech.

Hermione, on the other hand, was nodding fiercely. “How did I not think of it!” She exclaimed, “Harry, it’s the intensity! Of course you’d be used to using more of your magic if you had been trained to work with different systems of magic.” She said as she took out a piece of parchment, “I need to write this down—go on, Harry. Try it again.”

“Um.” Harry hesitated, looking up at Draco. Draco fished out his wand and demonstrated: “ _Lumos_.” The wand tip glowed a faint white light. “ _Nox_. _Lumos_.” He called again, and this time the tip shone out a much brighter ray, “Different intensities of spells are used to perform different tasks. But still remember—never ever pour everything into one spell. It’s known to kill the caster.”

Hermione looked up from her writing. “How do you know all that?” She questioned, “It’s not written on the textbook, or any books I have found in the library...”

“What else do you expect us to be practicing at home? Cooking?” Draco barely bit back the “not like you muggle-borns do.” He flicked his hand and the light on his wand tip went out. Hermione crossed her arms but didn’t say anything. “Harry, I suggest you try the spell again in a few hours, and practice not using your magic up so quick. But rest for now—you have emptied your magic reserve, and trying again will severely damage...what?” When he saw Hermione and Harry exchanging strange glances, Draco asked warily, “Something else I might need to know?”

“Well, Harry tried the spell three minutes before he went out looking for you.” Hermione said, putting down her quill.

Draco had no idea how he should be describing the confusion he was feeling. What in Merlin’s name?

Hermione turned to Harry and continued, tapping the parchment: “Precisely how much magic are you using? And how fast does it recover, Harry?”

“Depends on what spell I perform. It’s like I have the core producing _seidr_ for me, and normally I use the outmost layer of energy—those that are readily available—in my spells, which takes at most a few minutes to recharge.” Harry explained, “But if I am to perform a really complicated and difficult spell, or maybe a ritual, I would drain the whole core, and I’ll take weeks to recover. Or not at all. Theoretically.” His expression darkened strangely at that, as if the mention had trigger some bad memories, before he shook it off and said, “I used all my magic in doing that _Lumos_ spell...oh crap, did I use too much?”

“All your magic?” Hermione asked again.

“All the magic on the surface.”

_Well_ , _that basically meant_ ‘ _not all._ ’ “So you didn’t empty your magic reserve and managed to produce that kind of light.” Draco rephrased Harry’s words slowly. That’s...that’s crazy! Impossible. How could someone have that much magic in them—and just what is a magic core again?

Hermione, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find Harry’s words strange to accept at all—then again, as a muggle-born she probably had no idea what normal wizards are capable of anyways. She nodded slowly, then confirmed: “You used the same amount of energy you would put into building a clone into your _Lumos_ spell.”

“Yea.” Harry said sheepishly, “I may have overestimated the amount of energy this spell needs? Then with the wand it feels all so easy and smooth...”

“Well.” She paused to think, “So far from what I can conclude, we—as in, normal witches and wizards—do not typically control the intensity of spells we use. Only some of us,” she nodded at Draco, “deliberately learn to do so. You, on the other hand, is trained to use your magic in another way. In that case, let’s determine just what is the right amount of magic for you. Call up a ball of fire. Lamp. Light. Whatever spell you would usually use to illuminate places.”

At this point Draco had lost the entire conversation. He was aware that Harry grew up with a handful of American wizards—who called themselves “sorcerers” for whatever reason—but he never knew there could be so much difference between how mentors educate their pupils in each country. But all that still did not answer his original question—just how does Harry even have that much magic available to use?

Harry nodded, then closed his hands. Draco watched on with cautious, wondering what the hell he’s trying to do. When Harry reopened them, a bright flash of glowing green flame appeared in his hand. Draco blinked twice before he stumbled backwards and almost completely lost his composure.

_Wandless magic?!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More magic talk?
> 
> Harry POV

“What is wandless magic?” Harry asked, curious.

 _Magic that doesn_ ’ _t need a wand. Duh._

“Magic performed without the aid of a wand.” Draco all but repeated Tom’s explanation. He stared at the ball of fire like he couldn’t believe his eyes: “How _in Merlin_ ’ _s name_ did you manage to learn wandless magic before even learning to properly cast spells?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious not _all_ kinds of magic in the Nine Realms need a _wand_ to be performed.” Hermione countered, “Even when you rule out all the alien magic factor, Dr. Strange and his crew don’t use wands.”

“They have a thing called Sling Ring.” Harry told her. When Hermione blinked at him blankly he suddenly realized that, right, most of the public don’t really know how Uncle Stephen use magic. “I have one in my dorm. I’ll show you later.”

“Anyways, back to my point, not all people use wands anyways.” Hermione continued saying, “How much magic are you using to sustain this light?”

Harry stared at the dancing flame. “Pretty much nothing.” He said, unsure, “Unless you want me to call up the Eternal Flames?”

For the sake of sustaining Tom’s consciousness, Harry had had some Eternal Flames floating in his blood ever since he was five. Calling them up take quite a bit of _seidr_ , but that was also be the most powerful attack he could perform.

“No, but you’re showing me later.” Hermione said, “So now, try _Lumos_ with ‘pretty much nothing.’”

Harry turned to Draco: “Do you think that’d work?”

“I...” Draco started, then stopped abruptly. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Yes?”

 _I bet he_ ’ _s still on with Papa and Dr. Strange being American wizards._ Tom whispered. _He is quite in need of some in-depth research._

 _I_ ’ _ll suggest him to research Norse myths first_. Harry thought, then changed his mind as he remembered all the horrible stories about Loki. _Or not. I guess I_ ’ _ll tell him myself then._

“Go on.” Hermione urged, “If it doesn’t work we’ll need to think of something else.”

“Alright.” Harry mumbled, placing his fingers on the right position. It was hard to not pour magic into his wand, he observed. It offers an easy and energy efficient path for his magic to travel through, and it’s tempting to just use it. Harry couldn’t believe that wands could fry with that little magic though—all the Asgardian staffs he had tried using were much more durable. Then again, they were made of magical alien metal instead of flammable material like holly wood and phoenix feather...

“ _Lumos_.” He pronounced clearly. His wand tip lit up a bright glow, all the while Harry was mumbling to himself: _not too much, not too much, please don’t fry the curtain again..._

After the brief silence, Hermione spoke up first. “I think it’s working.” 

So it was! Harry beamed brightly, feeling slightly relieved. So he _was_ a wizard after all, not just a mistake by the Sorting Hat or whatever—

“I need to read up on intensities of spells and how things differ.” Hermione said—ranted—rapidly, “Harry, your _Lumos_ achieved the same effect, if not stronger, of _Lumos Maxima_ when you pour a lot of magic into the spell—does that work the same way with normal wizards? The incantation _Maxima_ obviously have does _something_ —would it produce only a faint light if I choose to use little magic even with that incantation? Does the incantation make it easier to pour the magic into the spell or does it enhance the effect after magic has been drawn? What if I—” She cut herself off, and turned to Draco, “Malfoy, can you recommend some books on this subject?”

“I…suppose.” Draco said, sounding unsure of what he was doing. “Start with _The Charm of Charms and Time of Times—_ I’m pretty sure there is a copy in Hogwarts library.”

“Great. Thanks.” Hermione went on tapping her parchment, scribbling something down, “I’ll—”

The door into the classroom suddenly bursted open. Harry looked up and saw Ron almost falling face first into the room. “Harry! Are you finished with Hermione?” He called—over-enthusiastically, as always—before noticing Draco, then his expression darkened. “Malfoy.” He said, voice low, “What are you doing here?”

“What?” Draco asked, still sounding distracted.

Ron pulled out his wand. “Call off your dark magic and stay away from Harry, you evil Slytherin.”

As if suddenly snapping back to reality, Draco’s head whipped towards Ron. “Weasley.” He hissed menacingly as he recognized Ron— _oh no, this is definitely not ending well_ , “All with red hair and freckles and more kids than they can afford.” He lifted his chin, “Pray tell, what can you do if I don’t?”

Ron’s face flushed and his expression hardened, and he raised his wand in a ready-to-fire pose: “Malfoy, I tell you—”

“Nononono both of you stop!” Harry jumped in the middle. The last thing he would possibly want was having a duel in a goddamn abandoned classroom, never mind the notion of two of his friends fighting each other. “Ron, Draco’s here to help me with Charms—not whatever you’re assuming.”

“He is a Slytherin, a dark wizard! Of course he is up to something. Harry, how can you trust—”

“He is not!” Harry yelled over Ron’s voice, weary at his stupid accusations. How the wizards have so much prejudice against each other Harry could never understand, “Ron, don’t go around saying things you can’t be sure of, and Draco is my _friend_.”

That seemed to throw Ron off guard—alright, it threw everyone off guard, even Harry himself. Ron stared at him, mouth slightly opened. Harry felt a pang of guilt before he reminded himself that _Ron_ was the one who started the whole argument in the first place. 

For a moment no one said anything. Harry glanced around and briefly locked eyes with Hermione—a slight nod, and she dashed forward towards Ron. “Ron, let’s go to the library.” She said, dragging the red-haired boy towards the door.

“What?! But—”

Hermione cut him off. “Have you finished your Potions essay yet? No? Well you better start doing it now. And leave Harry alone. So, library it is, and shut up and don’t argue and I know it’s almost dinner time but _you are not_ going to the Great Hall until you finish your essay...”

Harry waited until Hermione’s voice disappeared to relax and turn to Draco. Steady, grey-blue eyes stared back at him, and Harry suddenly felt like he didn’t know where to put his hands. He cleared his throat, and started: “Er, Draco, I’m sorry about what Ron said. I’ll talk to him later and—”

“Don’t.” Draco said, wrinkling his nose, “Don’t be sorry on his behalf. The whole Weasley family is stupid like that. If I were you—”

“Hey, Draco, not you too.” Harry rubbed his forehead. Alright, so the feeling of hatred is mutual. “Please? Just…stop? I’ll make sure he apologizes for that stupid comment.”

Draco neither agreed nor refused, and instead he continued staring at Harry intensely. “You just called me your friend.” He stated.

“Um, yes?” Harry paused. Does Draco not want Harry to call him his friend? “Do you prefer me not to?”

“No. I mean, call me whatever you want.” Draco said, then fell silent again. He stared at Harry some more before shifting his gaze away and moving towards the door: “I…I should get going now.”

“Wait.” Harry called out before his brain reacted. Draco paused at the door, turning his head slightly. Harry felt a strange sensation. “Draco, thanks for everything today. Would you like to, um, study together again? Tomorrow in the library? If you don’t mind Hermione, that is.”

Draco turned around, his grey eyes finding Harry’s, as if searching something in them. “Maybe.” He said, before backing out of the door.

Harry watched him left.

***

It was a pleasant surprise that Draco actually showed up Thursday afternoon, even with a book on _The Theories of Controlled Effects of Charms_ to lend to Hermione. It seemed to surprise him that Ron was also there and even more surprised when Ron grudgingly mumbled an apology. At least for the duration of the two hours, neither Ron or Draco tried to insult the other one. Well, they were still either completely ignoring or glaring daggers at each other but, Harry was satisfied enough.

Maybe, just maybe, everything’s going to go in a _good_ direction…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two chapters fought me all the way. I rewrote them at least three different versions five times...They are pretty important though, since I need to get powerful!alien-magic under control :P I also really need Draco and Ron to stop hurling insults at each other the second they're placed in the same room. If anything about that magic core doesn't make sense...it's all on me and my horrible communication skills :<
> 
> Next chapter should be up in 2-3 days


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk (?) with Tony

“How’s your school been?”

“Awesome.” Harry said, eyes widening as he took in Tony’s image. From the surroundings, Harry could tell that Tony was in his workshop, probably working on his suit updates. It’s startling how he missed his family so much after just a week at Hogwarts. To think he could only return home for Christmas, three _months_ later…

“Hogwarts’ nice. I’m learning new things—different charms and astronomy and even plants, even though that wasn’t going too well. ” He said, “I got into Gryffindor—you know, the red and gold and lion house?” Tony beamed brightly as he remote-controlled Harry’s screen to flash red and gold, “I think my Headmaster’s crazy though.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “A crazy headmaster. Isn’t that a bit stereotypical?” He clapped his hands and leaned forward, “I suppose I should be filling you in on my side as well. All is well, Tasha and Clint are somewhere in Russia for a mission, Capsicle…er, not sure where he is but probably Brooklyn, Bruce’s with the city rebuilding team. Pep is still bugging me about all the renovation plan—can you believe that?! She got rid of all my vacations then filled my schedule with boring board meetings.” He grimaced, “Good thing I have Lokes with me.”

Harry grinned. Oh he remembered that time. The time when Tony skipped a meeting only to find out that Loki had gone in his place, and no one in the entire building noticed. There was a while when Aunt Pepper got so frustrated that she demanded both of them present at all the board meetings—guess what happened? Papa _was_ skilled enough to sustain two clones, after all.

“Where’s Papa?” Harry asked, delighted.

Tony smirked. “Boring board meeting.”

Tom laughed in Harry’s head. Harry smiled too, then changed the topic: “Dad, have you received my mails?”

“Magic pellet that turns people into a different colour?” Tony grinned widely, “Why, I’m waiting to try it out on _The Other Guy_. I still have the owl though—I think JARVIS might have scared the hell out of that little guy, and flying across the ocean really isn’t a great idea for birds like that.”

“Well.” Harry rolled down his bed, “Maybe you can ask Uncle Stephen to help deliver stuff? I know with the sling ring it cost a lot less energy than asking Papa to walk the branches of Yggdrasil.” He pushed open his curtain as he said, “Hey Dad, I’ll show you my dorm.”

Everyone else had been off to some other activities except Ron, who was sitting on the four post bed next to Harry feeding a lollipop into his mouth, gazing down at a chess board. He froze as Harry popped out of his bed, and he almost choked on his own saliva when he saw Tony’s hologram video display.

“Dad, that’s my roommate Ron Weasley.” Harry grinned.

“Hi, uh, Mr. Stark, its a pleasure to meet you.” Ron stumbled out, frantically shoving the lollipop somewhere else. To his credit, he didn’t look towards Harry for help at all.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mr—” Tony made a pose of saluting, and Harry had to interrupt: “Dad, no nicknames, please?”

“—Weasley.” Tony glared at Harry. Harry just stuck his tongue out. Tony made some polite exchange with Ron before he turned back to Harry, and the latter went on recounting the fun he had been having at the school. “But now everyone expects me to be ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’.” He complained, “As if I’m special because I beat an evil dark lord when I was one. And then my Potions teacher apparently hates me for that.”

Tony frowned. “Hate?” He asked, “Harry, you need to be a bit more specific than that. What happened?”

“He kinda picked on me being a ‘celebrity.’ In a mocking way, as if I’m supposed to know everything.” Harry shrugged. Not that he wasn’t used to it—the reason he didn’t go to normal schools was precisely because of people’s stupid expectation of “heir of Stark Industry”, and adding The-Boy-Who-Lived didn’t make that big a difference. But Snape gave him a different feeling—it felt like intense hatred at one moment and then complexity another. Tom pointed out that Snape probably had personal reasons for picking on Harry, even though Harry didn’t really want to put too much thought into considering Snape’s psychological progressions... “It’s not big deal though—in fact, he picks on everyone in Gryffindor, cuz he’s the head of Slytherin House. He took five points from Gryffindor because I said ‘Draught of the Living _Dead_ ’ instead of ‘Draught of the Living _Death_ ,’ and then Crabbe—he’s a Slytherin—said ‘I don’t know’ to three of his questions and he didn’t say a word.” He pouted, “I should probably stop having Living Dead marathons with Draco.”

“Hmm,” Tony shot him a questioning glance, then concluded, “We’ll talk about this later.” He said, rubbing his beard, “Isn’t that Draco boy Slytherin though?”

“Draco can’t save me every time.” Harry answered. He noticed Ron shifting uncomfortably at the mention of Draco and Slytherin, but decided to say what he was going to say anyway. “Oh right, and there’s that. The hat actually said I’d do well in Slytherin, and it said Tom is definitely one.”

 _Hi Dad_. Tom piped up.

“And Tom just said Hi.” Harry translated. The topic of discussion soon diverted onto ghosts and poisonous plants and broomstick riding—Harry was really looking forward to the class tomorrow. Ron was sitting quietly nearby, pretending to read a book while peering at Harry out of the corner of his eyes.

“There’s a Halloween party coming up.” Harry mentioned when call time hit half an hour, signalling the end of their talk. “I think I’m using my Iron Man suit for this year’s costume. I’ll miss trick-and-treat though—sounds like Hogwarts’ not having anything like that.” He bet trick-or-treating with Snape would be _really_ fun…

“Cool.” Tony looked thoughtful, “Have you tried on your boots yet? No? Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t need it anyways. Anything special on Halloween? Hmm...”

“Hogwarts is having a costume party—the one day in the whole year where we aren’t asked to wear black robes. And there’s the Halloween feast and all kinds of decoration. Have you decided what to wear for Halloween?” Harry prompted.

“I was planning to steal Cap’s costume and, you know, but I think I might have a better idea…” Tony broke into a smile, “Anyways, kid, gotta go now, or Pep’s gonna hunt me down again. I’ll ring you again at some point next week. Keep texting me.”

Harry waved at the hologram as it flickered out of life, then he packed it back into his ward-protected trunk. Talking to Tony always feel refreshing—like somehow his father has the special power of boosting his energy or something. He smiled at his trunk one more time, thinking about the boots and gloves Tony insisted for him to carry around. Maybe it’s a better idea to put them on all times, he thought, taking the bracelets out. It was only part armour anyways, the boots comfortable and light enough to just wear as shoes and the gloves easily pulled out of a bracelet. Tony had designed them specifically for everyday use, which meant that the metal shells were much thinner than the actual Iron Man suit, and that the repulsor power would be much smaller, but still powerful enough to take Harry flying or knock down an attacker. Harry doubted if anyone would attack him (unless it’s a classroom situation, of course) but always better safe than sorry...right?

“Harry?” Ron called, breaking Harry out of his trance. He turned around and looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow, and Ron swallowed: “Did the hat actually sat you’ll do well in Slytherin?”

“Yea.” Harry nodded slowly, “It said something about road to glory.”

“And who is Tom?”

Oh. That’s a hard one to explain. “He’s...” Harry hesitated, “He’s my, um...”

 _Imaginary snake friend._ Tom suggested. _You know, snake and Slytherin_.

“...imaginary snake friend.” Harry echoed.

Ron grimaced, but didn’t push on. “Really, mate, you should keep an imaginary _lion_ friend.” He joked.

“That’s…too huge for my taste.”

“Why, no!” Ron argued, before turning back to the chessboard. “Big and blonde and all-mighty and stuff. Lion is the best!”

As if agreeing with him, the white knight on the board smashed a black pawn to pieces.

 _Are you sure he’s not describing Uncle Thor?_ Tom asked.

 _I’m pretty sure he is._ Harry thought back as he packed away his trunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update in 2 days :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some flying!

Harry didn’t really know how he ended up in a situation like this, with everyone staring at him like he’s an alien. Which, coming to think about it, he sort of _was_.

It started with Neville flying off uncontrollably then dropping down head first, injuring himself. Madame Hooch had to carry him off to the hospital wing, and thus leaving all the boys alone, unsupervised, out in the fields. Harry was already starting to see the drawbacks of having a high student-faculty ratio—seriously? Leaving a class of Gryffindor with a class of Slytherin without so much of a teacher? It’s recipe for a disaster even worse than leaving Uncle Clint and Dad together for three days—and just so you know, that time the two of them almost blew up the whole tower.

Three seconds. Three seconds were all it took for everyone to step out of the line-up Madame Hootch forced them to get into. Gryffindor and Slytherin stood across from each other, glaring, and Harry decided to drag his friends (including Draco) to the side and off the battlefield. Ron looked like he wanted to argue and go staring at his “enemies” like the rest of his housemates were doing, but Draco’s smug smile gave Ron the defiance to plant his feet beside Harry and glare at him instead.

Then somehow Theodore Nott spotted Neville’s Rememberball on the ground, then things kind of exploded. In less than two minutes, everyone’s got their wands out, pointing at each other, even though honestly Harry didn’t think they could know any hexes yet.

“Can we stop this stupidity? Nott, give it back!” Harry rubbed his head and yelled. Draco whispered a _Sonorus_ , and Harry’s voice carried clearly across the field. 

Nott turned around slowly. Everyone stopped talking and Harry suddenly felt countless gazes falling on him. “Think you can command me, Mr. The-Boy-Who-Lived? What about I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect—say, up a tree?”

“Theodore, don’t be an idiot.” Draco called out, standing beside Harry.

Nott hissed at him menacingly. “And look, I never thought a Malfoy would support the blood traitors…” He smirked, “What would your father say if he sees you like this, Draco?”

Now the field was getting really quiet. People seemed to have stopped breathing. Draco’s face flushed lightly before he also raised his wand, pointing at Nott’s direction, “Nott, you won’t want me as an enemy.”

“That’s enough.” Another Slytherin boy—Blaise Zabini, if Harry remembered correctly—called out, “Theo, no point in breaking the rule just for a couple of brainless Gryffindors.” He glanced at Harry, and somehow Harry could feel that Zabini was trying to apologize for his comment. 

Nott snickered. “Come catch me if you can.” He said, leaping off onto a broom.

Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes. _Is that a challenge? Well, challenge accepted._ A quick glance around the crowd and he decided to grab his broom, just when Hermione shrieked: “No! Madame Hootch told us not to touch the broom—Harry, don’t fall into his trap!”

Harry’s grip on his broom tightened momentarily before something else clicked in his brain. Of course, he still could catch Nott if he finds another way to fly, and luckily he had just the equipment to do it. He let go of the broom and dropped down on one knee, touching his boots. 

Some of the Slytherins started laughing, and Ron was asking behind Harry: “Mate, what are you...?”

As the sensors lined up, Harry’s bracelet gave a quiet whirl, and the glove reached out to cover his palm. A piece of metal in his boots flipped out, revealing the thrusters, and Harry took a deep breath before activating them, taking off the ground.

 _Oh yeah, flyyying again!_ Tom exclaimed. _I’ve been waiting for this for the whole month._

 _So have I._ Harry thought back, ascending steadily into the air.

Voices rose and suddenly everyone was talking, yelling at each other again. As Harry reached the same hight as Nott’s brooms, the Slytherin boy started looking worried. Harry hovered mid-air, feeling the breeze blowing in his face: “Nott, last warning, give the Rememberball here.”

Nott’s face turned pale, but he still snapped at Harry, holding the ball high in his hand: “Come get it!”

 _Sure thing_. Harry thought and charged at him. Nott yelped, barely steering out of the way, and Harry made a sharp turn and reached for the ball again. Every time he flew, Harry felt like an eagle, soaring the sky as if it was his own territory, and this was no different. He had _total control,_ and it was the feeling he loved best.

When Harry made a swift turn a third time and cut off Nott’s retreating route, the Slytherin boy’s face turned ashen. He glared at Harry, then before Harry could make a move again he threw the ball as hard as he could, yelling: “Catch, Potter!”

Somewhere on the ground, the Gryffindor girl Harry vaguely remembered as Parvati screamed loudly.

Harry dive down, pushing the thrusters. He shouldn’t be going at a speed too high without a helmet on, but he was having way too much fun to even care. Wind whistled in his ears, blowing back his hair, and Harry reached out as he shot closer and closer to the Rememberball. In an elegant turn, Harry swept down and catches the ball half a foot off ground, then pulled himself back up, shooting straight into the blue cloudless sky. 

Everyone was staring at him, stunned. Harry raised an eyebrow, landing on the ground with a quiet thud. His robe perfectly covered his boots, hiding any sign of the thrusters. “I’m giving this back to Neville.” He said, holding the ball, “And Nott? It’s Stark-Lokason, not Potter.”

Hermione gasped audibly—Harry could literally see her eyes shining like laser as she stared at his equipments. Her sound seemed to have unlocked something—suddenly people in Gryffindor started cheering…even though Harry was pretty sure eighty percent of them didn’t even know what exactly did he just do.

The Slytherins were quiet, staring at Harry with calculating looks. A few of them nodded at Harry, although he had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Draco had a carefully blank expression on his face, but Harry was pretty sure that was just him being extremely shocked. Again. He thought about how he had flipped Draco’s world upside down probably hundreds of times in the past few month, and felt kind of sorry for him. Or maybe not.

Nott was glaring dagger at Harry, face contorted with hatred. “You think you have won?” He spatted, pulling his wand. Before anyone can speak up he yelled out: “Screw you, Potter, what about this? _Serpensortia_!”

 _What is with this guy?_ Tom asked, annoyed. _Didn’t you just say it’s_ _not_ _“Potter?”_

A huge snake with black scale appeared in thin air. People started screaming at the new addition to the field, and the snake hissed threateningly, drawing its head back, ready to attack.

Even Slytherins were shouting at each other by this point. Harry’s eyes widened when the snake slithered towards a few Gryffindor girls, and he yelled without a thought: “ _Stop_!”

It’s as if Harry had the special power of stopping time or something, because the second he spoke, everyone froze again. The snake turned towards him, looking confused.

 _Alright, so magically conjured snake are intelligent being._ Harry thought. Really, he didn’t understand how Nott can just produce a snake randomly, out of nowhere— _where the hell did the conservation of energy go??? Does the snake even have soul—well, it certainly did if it could understand All-Speak_.

“ _Down_.” Harry ordered again, walking up and holding out his repulsor, ready to attack the snake if he needed. Funny how he still think of technology before magic even now. 

The snake lowered its head: “ _Of course, my lord_.”

 _That’s weird_. Tom commented, mildly interested.

And it was. Only creatures with enough intelligence could possibly understand All-Speak. Harry certainly wasn’t expecting a snake—albeit a magical one—to talk back to him! It’s equivalent to hearing an Asgardian boar, basically a kind of food, talking to him, and it gave him a strange sensation.

People around him went so quiet that he could practically hear the sound of leaves rustling all the way in the Forbidden Forest. Harry looked around and gestured at the forest. “ _Leave_.” He commanded, “ _Please_.”

“ _As you wish, my lord_.” The snake said, slowly turning around and slithering away from the crowd. People stepped back from its path as if the snake was some kind of virus, and Harry watched it slither off. Then he looked back and found everyone staring at him in horror, like he’s an alien or something…

“What?” Harry asked after a minute or two of silence. “What is wrong—”

“Mr. Stark!” A voice shrieked, and seriously, Harry had the momentary hallucination that this was probably the same tone and voice and everything as Aunt Pepper shrieking at Tony for something the engineer had done stupidly. He turned to see Professor McGonagall, wearing her black robe and the pointed hat, with that look of pure horror on her face, “Never once in my time—Flying Lesson—Madame Hootch—Mr. Nott, Mr. Stark, both of you, come with me!”

 _And now she’s shrinking our last name to just Stark?_ Tom asked.

“Professor,” Ron started, “Nott took Neville’s Rememberball—”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley, I know.”

“Harry was trying to help—”

“Yes, Miss Patil, I understand. However, it is still unacceptable to break rules, even when it comes to heroism.” Professor McGonagall said in a stern voice, signaling the end of the conversation, “Mr. Stark, Mr. Nott. With me. Now.”

“Harry didn’t break the rule.” Hermione said, pointing at Harry’s original broomstick, “He didn’t even touch his broomstick.”

Professor McGonagall fell silent. Harry wondered for a second why no one in Slytherin stood out to defend Nott.

“Very well then, Mr. Stark.” She said, shooting Harry a look. “Five o’clock—when your flying class finishes—Headmaster’s office, Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to talk to you. Mr. Nott, _you_ will come with me.” She turned around, “I believe detention is in order, for stealing property and intending to harm your schoolmates. Five points from Slytherin—you should be glad that I didn’t take fifty away, just because it is only your first week here.”

Nott stood up silently and followed Professor McGonagall. Harry watched them walk back into the castle, and wondered what would be waiting for him if Hermione hadn’t saved him. Thinking about it, it actually was Hermione’s reminder in the first place that made him think about his boots…

The crowd stood in absolute silence this time, waiting for Madame Hootch to return with no one daring to move. Draco sneaked up behind Harry and whispered: “Harry?”

“Hmm?” Harry peered back at him, not wanting to talk loudly in this odd moment.

“Come to the Slytherin common room after your talk with Dumbledore, will you?” The blond boy asked quietly, a frown on his face, “I think I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.” He added, as if worried that Harry would refuse if he didn’t. 

 _What is there to talk about?_ “Alright. Will do.” Harry nodded, turning back around. Madame Hootch emerged from the castle not long after, and the lesson resumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Flying Lesson! With Nott playing Draco's role because Draco's supposed to be (kind of) friendly with the Gryffindors by now.
> 
> I decided to not have Harry becoming a seeker in Year one...I thought about whether he would still grab the broomstick and just fly like he did in the original or if he would try something else, but with Loki's education and Tom in his head, I feel like Harry would act differently (let's just leave Tony out of the conversation for now lol). Then I remembered that there's the Iron Man armor, and thought why not let Harry have his own armor too and there we go :D Pretty sure nothing limited the use of muggle artifact in Hogwarts since most of them wouldn't work anyway, so yay to loopholes! Not sure if anyone noticed, but the part about the armor in the last chapter was kind of awkward cuz I inserted it after I finished the chapter.
> 
> Still, hoping none of this is too big a jump from the book? I'm kind of afraid to steer too far away from the original plots...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore and the Invisibility Cloak

Five o’clock, Harry reached Dumbledore’s office. Two gargoyles guarded the stairs, and Harry took a deep breath before saying the password: “Candy Storm.”

Like, seriously? What kind of professor use a password like that?? Harry was getting a tidbit worried about his fate now...what would the headmaster want to talk to him about?

The gargoyle tilted its head and walked away from the entrance, revealing a spiralling stair. “Up ya go.” It squeaked, “Good luck!”

“Thank you.” Harry said politely, stepping onto the stairs. He was actually prepared to climb up the stairs when the floor below him suddenly started moving, and Harry found himself moving upwards.

 _Oh god, how I miss elevators._ Tom moaned.

 _You aren’t the one doing the walking._ Harry thought back, unimpressed. _But yes, I miss elevators too. And teleportation. And JARVIS._

The stairs turned and Harry went higher and higher in the castle until he found himself in front of an oak door. He hesitated before knocking quietly, and to his surprise Dumbledore’s voice called back, clear as if he was speaking right by Harry’s ears: “Come in.”

Harry pushes open the door. Inside the door—the headmaster’s office. There were small, strange artifacts all around the room, sitting on shelves that lined the wall. A huge metal sphere was floating behind the dark oak writing table, and Harry saw a shallow basin beside a golden bird stand. 

But even more impressive was all the books lining the room. They were literally everywhere—shelves, floor, table. And behind the table hung hundreds of paintings, all seeming to be asleep.

Harry glanced around, fascinated. It was much prettier than he had imagined and very similar to Dr. Strange’s sanctum. Similar in a way that made him relax. He walked up the stairs carefully, before coming to a stop behind the man with his back turned towards Harry: “Professor Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore turned around. He was wearing a robe different from the grey robe he wore at the sorting ceremony, and it was weird in such a fashion that it looked pretty. It was a robe transmitting from light pink to dark purple from bottom to top, and the darkest parts had animations of twinkling stars. Harry looked up and saw Dumbledore’s eyes twinkling just like those stares on his robe, reflecting behind his glasses: “Hello, Harry. Have a seat.”

A chair appeared in front of the black oak table, and Harry sat down hesitantly. Dumbledore held out a box and asked: “Have a Lemon Drop? Hogsmeade makes the best candies ’round here.”

Harry stared at the box and the wrapped candy inside, then shook his head. “No, thanks.” He said, then asked, “I believe you want to talk to me…?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore seemed slightly disappointed that Harry didn’t want to chat first. He took the box back and popped one into his own mouth, “I wish to ask you about your family, Harry.”

“Oh.” It seemed unlikely that Dumbledore summoned him here solely for a fact that everyone should know, so… “Is this about the Flying Lesson? I mean, I checked the rules—or Hermione helped me check—and it didn’t say I couldn’t bring things from muggle world…”

“Nothing is wrong, Harry, I assure you.” Dumbledore said kindly, “I will give you loads and loads of warning before you actually do something wrong. Please, I just want to hear your story growing up. Humour an old man, please?”

 _Seriously, what the actual f*ck?_ With one glance at the professor, Harry hesitantly opened his mouth and started talking about his family—his parents, his life, and the team. Dumbledore listened intently, his eyes emitting a wave of emotions Harry couldn’t quite identify.

There wasn’t much to talk about—and that’s another thing Harry found out. You’d only find how hard it is to talk about yourself and your family when you’re actually asked…especially when you’re reluctant to say too much because you don’t trust your recipient. Oh wow, Harry felt really horrible for not trusting his headmaster now, but in truth, he didn’t know Dumbledore all that well either so it made sense…

Dumbledore hummed at the end of Harry’s story. “I suppose you had found a loving family, Harry.” He sighed, “When your parents—pardon me, birth parents—died, I sent you to your aunt’s home, in hope that she would protect you from Voldemort’s followers, but I had not foreseen the car accident that took her family’s life.”

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a strange sensation. It’s rare for him to learn about his birth family, but he savoured any moments like these. “Is she also a witch?” He asked, already guessing the answer.

“No, Petunia was not.” Dumbledore shook his head, “But being your mother’s sister, she can provide protection through the bond of blood.” He didn’t explain what this bond of blood though, going on to the next topic, “I’m glad your family had been able to keep you from the danger I had imagined. I lost track of you when you were taken, although there never was a sign that you had been hurt…” He trailed off, standing up, “There is something I wish to give you, Harry.”

“Alright.” Harry said, because he really didn’t know what to say. He watched the headmaster stand up and took something out of his drawer. He squinted a little—that…thing that looked like liquid yet reflect light like metal…what?

“This,” Dumbledore handed the thing—something like a transparent cloak—to Harry, and to his surprise Harry saw his own hands disappear inside the cloak, “Is what your father lent to me before the end of the war. It is time for it to return to its rightful owner. Your father…he’s a great man, and he loved you until the day he died.”

“Thank you, professor.” Harry said, a bit stunned, clenching the cloak. This felt different from receiving a family vault from Gringotts—having a professor officially handing him the inheritance from his birth parents and telling him that those people had loved him as deeply as his parents now. Suddenly Harry felt guilty for refusing to acknowledge the name Potter…was it a wrong thing to do?

“Use it wisely.” Dumbledore said, “You can come back at anytime to talk, Harry. I would love to tell you stories about your father.” He smiled fondly, “A mischief seeker, great at flying, just like you yourself…” He sighed, “The Potter family had always been one of the bests in Gryffindor, Harry. Make your family proud.”

Harry nodded, taking it as a sign to leave. Dumbledore didn’t say anything more, simply smiling at Harry with that Mona Lisa smile. As Harry walked out, he saw a small bird chirping on the bird stand he noticed earlier, and blinked. 

 _Was it there before?_ He asked in his head.

Tom didn’t answer.

_Tom?_

“That’s Fawkes, a phoenix.” Dumbledore called out from behind, breaking Harry out of his trance. Harry commented “fantastic” absentmindedly, then strode out of the office, calling in his head: _Tom, are you there_?

 _Your headmaster is…strange_. Tom’s voice finally came through, though he sounded like he was whispering. _I feel like I know him from somewhere…_

Harry stepped onto the staircase, studying the cloak he just received. This is nice, he thought, now I can walk around the school with no one else seeing me.

 _I think Dumbledore is manipulating you._ Tom said sharply, seemingly returned to life. _He’s drawing parallels between you and James Potter—didn’t you just feel like he’s right to say that you should be making the Potter family proud_ _even when you have no idea who they even are_ _?_

Harry actually paused to consider this. _You’re not wrong…_ he slowly admitted, looking down at his cloak again. _But they do have a right to_ _something_ _as my birth parents._

 _Maybe_. Tom sounded doubtful. _But I don’t trust Dumbledore_.

Honestly? Harry didn't either.

As he walked down the stairs, Harry draped the cloak over his head and grinned as his body disappeared under it. _I’m so going to experiment with it and see if Dad can replicate some._ He thought excitedly. _Think about an invisible Iron Man suit!_

 _Dad’s too flashy for that._ Tom said, unimpressed, almost sounding bored. 

 _Meh_. Harry shrugged. He hopped out of the door guarded by the gargoyles and started to the right. _To the dungeon?_ He prompted.

 _To the dungeon_. Tom confirmed, his interest perking back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me, trying to show things like manipulation with nice words. Honestly, I have no idea how that works...
> 
> I actually have a question - how do you call Dumbledore? Professor Dumbledore? That's what I'm using throughout this fic but he's not really a professor. Headmaster Dumbledore? It sounds really weird to me. Mr. Dumbledore? Totally doesn't work...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion about All-Speak and Parseltongue

Dungeon...every time Harry thought about dungeon his mind jumps to an image of torturing chamber and prison cells, much like the cold, ominous place he had seen back in the Asgardian palace. His Potions class took place in the dungeon, and the classroom was chilly. The lower Harry descended into the castle the colder it got, until Harry seriously started wondering if all Slytherins are actually shape-shifted snakes.

After asking a few portraits for directions, Harry found himself standing in front of a door guarded by four snakes. Not unlike Gryffindor, Harry thought, remembering the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

Only when he was standing here did Harry remembered that Draco had forgotten to tell him the password to get into the common room...grhh, that’s gonna be troublesome.

One of the snakes lifted its head lazily as Harry approached, taking off his cloak. “ _Invisible one?_ ” It hissed, “ _I have never seen you before..._ ”

“ _Sorry._ ” Harry said meekly, “ _I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here. Can you tell, um, Draco Malfoy that I’m here?_ ”

The snake looked surprised he responded at all. It hesitated for a second before coiling back onto itself, drawing the other snakes to follow his motion and revealing the door. “ _Surely you are a Slytherin, my lord._ ” It said, “ _Please, feel free to enter._ ”

 _Um, what?_ Harry blinked. Do they not even need a password to get into Slytherin common room?? That’s...what can he call it, over-confidence on their defence system? Or did the snakes simply memorize everyone’s face? Well, that’s not so hot—it seemed to think Harry was a first year Slytherin. Then, what if someone tries to break in or pretend to be a Slytherin student with that poly-something-juice? 

Part of his brain really wanted to clarify to the snake that he wasn’t Slytherin, but Harry decided to slip in first _then_ complain to Draco about this absurd identification system. He walked forward, and the door slid open smoothly, like an automatic door back at home (isn’t that amazing?) and he found himself in a room not unlike the Gryffindor common room.

Except, where everything basically oozed the word “noble.” Hogwarts was ancient and elegant, and the decor in the Slytherin common room was even more so. Lit with soft light, the stone engravings on the walls looked infinitely more ancient…do Gryffindors have that? Harry was pretty sure it did but they just seemed _so different_. The common room also overlooked the Great Lake from their huge windows, which would be a fantastic view if not for everyone in the room staring at him. Harry hovered in the doorframe, really not wanting to step on the extremely expensive looking mat, and called out: “Um, can someone get Draco Malfoy please? I’m supposed to be meeting him here.”

No one moved for a brief second before Zabini stood up and walked to another door leading, presumably, the dorm. Harry stood there awkwardly, while most people in the common room went back to doing whatever they were doing, but Harry could feel people peering at him in the corner of their eyes. Most of them were just reading, Harry noticed—if he didn’t know better he might’ve imagined this to be the Ravenclaw common room. 

Draco emerged from the hall less than a minute later, with an expression Harry could not read. He dashed towards Harry, and before Harry could open his mouth and greet him Draco had grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the common room through the door.

“ _Hi again, dear._ ” A different snake said as Harry was dragged by Draco across the door again, “ _Ooh, your boyfriend? Going out for the night? Lemme tell you, the Room of Requirement is the best place to go! Have fun!_ ”

Harry didn’t have enough time to yell back “he’s not my boyfriend” before Draco dragged him through the corridors. A few rapid turns later, he found himself in an abandoned classroom, and Draco casted a _Colloportus—_ which Harry remembered as the Locking charm from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ —on the door behind them.

Harry stared at the panting Draco, wide eyed. “Hello?” He called out skeptically, “Draco, you okay? What is wrong?”

“You.” Draco started, then stopped himself, then started again, “Do you have an excuse for being able to talk to snakes?”

“What? Oh.” Harry thought he realized what was wrong, “That was All-Speak. My father gifted it to me when I was accepted into the Aesir royal family.” He explained, “It allows me to talk to any living creature with soul and has the intelligence to understand words. Right, sorry, I forgot to tell you guys before.” He stuck out his tongue at that.

“Great.” Draco said, waving his wand and magicked a piece of parchment out of nowhere. He started scribbling words down with his quill, and Harry looked at him in awe. How does someone write so fast with _quill and parchment_?? Seriously, Harry was struggling to keep up his writing speed with utensil like this—pens and paper were so much easier. But Hermione wasn’t complaining either…oh well. He basically did it just for the look. It’s all a part of a British school experience, right? Living in a castle and wiring with quill…really, are they living in the fourteenth century? Harry supposed he could start imitating Loki’s way of talking…

“Alright.” Draco let out a breath of relief as he finished writing, folded the paper into a crane and let it go. Harry gasped when it flapped its wings like it’s alive and flew out of the window: “What’s that for? Wait, no, what is all this about?”

“I’m sending it to Granger.” Draco explained, “so she can start planning how to spread the rumour out most efficiently. But now, Harry, tell me just what the hell did you do with that snake.”

Harry looked at him, puzzled. “It _was_ All-Speak.” He said, “I told the snake to leave and it did. I was actually surprised that it could understand me—most animals have too low an intelligence.”

Draco frowned. “How does All-Speak work?” He asked, “That can’t be right.”

Harry opened his mouth to object and voice out his confusion, but Tom cut him off. _I think I’ve guessed what’s up._ He said. _Just go with it. It could be useful_.

 _Alright_. Harry thought grudgingly. Between them, Tom was always the one better at reading people and dissecting secrets, the one more like Loki, and Harry knew he was probably right. “All-Speak let me understand anything anyone says and allow anyone to understand anything I say. It’s not like learning a new language—if I am to speak in All-Speak, you’ll hear what I say in your native language, be you French or Chinese or Aesir. Or elf. Or snake, apparently. As long as the recipient has a brain that understands words and languages, All-Speak allows me to communicate with them.”

Draco chewed on the explanation, then slowly shook his head. “If that’s correct, at the field today the snake would’ve heard you speaking in snake language, and we’ll hear you speaking in English. Right?” Harry nodded. “But everyone heard you hiss, Harry. You were speaking Parseltongue.”

Harry blinked. Once. Twice.

“What?”

“Parseltongue.” Draco repeated, “It’s the language of snakes, a trait possessed by Salazar Slytherin himself.” He paused, thinking back to Harry’s statement, “You say your recipient for All-Speak has to be alive? Try speaking to this.” He pulled out a pendant from his pocket. Harry reached out and took it. The pendant is the shape of a vivid silver snake with ruby red eyes intertwined with a equally silver dagger, and Harry’s eyes widened at its beauty. _I’m getting something like this for Papa’s Christmas,_ Harry though.

“Try speak to it.” Draco urged. Harry looked at the snake, then concentrated. He knew All-Speak couldn’t possibly activate with the object unanimated and, well, dead, but he still tried his best. “ _Hello_.” Harry said. When nothing happened, he looked up at Draco.

Draco took in a sharp breath. “You hissed.” He whispered.

“Um.” Harry looked back down, then tried again. “ _Hello?_ ” He said, and focused on hearing his own words. Then he heard it, the bone-shivering hissing that came out of his own mouth. He gasped: “What, Draco—” then chocked on his own saliva. Draco rushed up and patted on his back.

 _Since when did we learn how to speak with_ _snakes_ _??_ Harry thought to Tom.

 _Who knows._ Tom answered, although he seemed to be a lot less confused than Harry was. _I’m guessing that we were born with it…but then we have All-Speak, so it doesn’t really help anything._

When Harry had finally finished coughing, he straightened up and took a deep breath. “Alright, so I can speak snake language. That’s cool.”

“Cool? You said COOL????” Draco looked like he was prepared to explode, “Harry Stark-Lokason, do you have ANY idea what PARSELTONGUE implies? God, do you EVER read?”

Harry, having no idea why Draco was so livid all of a sudden, held up his hands placatingly. “Um, please explain?” He prompted, “I just found out about it today too!”

Draco took in a deep breath. “Parseltongue is the talent of the bloodline of Slytherin.” He said, as if that explained everything.

“Um, so?” Harry prompted, still not understanding.

Tom suddenly made a sound. _Oh. I know._

 _What?_ Harry asked.

_Let him tell you._

Draco shot Harry a look that seemed to be saying “goddamnit you’re hopeless” before launching into an explanation: “Parseltongue is ever only presented in the direct offsprings of Salazar Slytherin—nowhere else. That’s why the symbol of House Slytherin is a snake, hinting at this lost talent. It’s said that Salazar Slytherin had hidden a monster in the castle, which happens to be a huge basilisk. Only people with Parseltongue can command it.” He paused, then asked impatiently, “Don’t you see the implication?”

“That I might have the blood of Slytherin?” Harry said slowly, and saw Draco facepalming himself. “Sorry, can you just give me the answer please? I’m not that good at things like this.”

 _We’re the_ _Heir of Slytherin_ _, idiot._ Tom said. _It means higher status amongst the nobles, and potentially a lot of power. We can use it as an advantage. Of course we would want to conceal our talent—who is stupid enough to show all the cards they have?_

Draco, on the other hand, started on an even more serious tone. “The Dark Lord—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—is a Parseltongue.” He said, “What do you think people will think? That The-Boy-Who-Lived is the Heir of Slytherin? Believe me, you’d be better off living a muggle life if this is revealed.”

Realization dawned on Harry. “That’s why you’re looking for excuses?” He asked, “Explaining it with All-Speak?”

“Yes.” Draco nodded. He was pale, frowning with concern, Harry noticed, and his heart warmed at how his friend was actually cared about him. “Harry, you can’t tell _anyone_ about this talent—no one. Not even your parents—um, well, I suppose they might be okay, but just in case of a Legilimency—that is, mind reader—you better keep this a secret. Just pretend it’s All-Speak, and don’t use it in front of anyone alive.”

“Of course.” Harry nodded, swallowing hard. At that Draco finally relaxed, flopping onto a spare chair in the classroom like a deflated balloon. Harry sat down on a chair carefully, then looked down at the pendant still in his hand, and called out: “Draco, your pendant?”

“Keep it if you want.” Draco said, rubbing his temple, “Well, I suppose we can go back to our dorms now. Remember, Harry, _no one alive._ Maybe except Granger—she probably already figured out. Grhh—it’ll be so hard to clear up!” He groaned, placing his head in his hands.

Harry felt slightly guilty for “making” his friends do this for him, and all because he carelessly slipped some hissing in front of his classmates…and that reminded him something else. “Draco? The snake statues in front of the Slytherin common room—do they not require passwords?”

“What?” Draco looked up, “Are you kidding? I was just going to ask you! Of course they—” He cut himself off, then looked at Harry with an exasperated expression, “You talked to them.”

“And they don’t speak English, right?” Harry finished off his guess, then closed his eyes briefly as he saw Draco gaped. Alright. It seemed that he just royally fucked up. Again.

“Of course they don’t!” Draco snapped. He took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down, then asked unbelievingly: “Merlin, Harry, do you even have any idea what that could mean? Well, either I will now get blamed for telling you the password into the Slytherin common room, or the secret would be revealed.” He groaned again, “Oh Merlin, Professor Snape is going to murder me now—wrap my body and send it to Dad for Christmas. _How is this my life?!_ ”

“Um.” Harry asked, feeling really guilty now, “Is it that bad?”

“You’re the first non-Slytherin to be in the Slytherin common room for, what, seven centuries now? And you had everyone witness you entering! Of course it’s that bad! Seriously, how the hell did you end up in Gryffindor??”

Harry had no answer to that question.

Draco just shook his head, and fell silent for a few minutes. “I’m going to dinner now.” He finally announced, standing up, “And putting this whole thing off until tomorrow.”

“I can very much say the same.” Harry sighed, glancing at his watch. Seven ten, perfect time for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this little section! Next I'm jumping through the first two months and skip right to Halloween :D (should be up Wednesday ish)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General school life + Halloween Part I

School life kind of fell into a routine after the first eventful week. Transfiguration and Charms were fun once Harry grasped the concept of directing his magic through the wand instead of his body, as were Flying and Astronomy (as two of his favourite subject right now). Herbology was a mess—it seemed that Harry had inherited Tony’s talent in his inability of taking care of plants, as every single plant he tried treating either scream and run away or fake death then come back to life once Harry stepped aside. Not even Professor Spout had any idea why...Well, at least Harry did well in theories.

Magic History was less interesting than Harry wished—Professor Binn’s voice droned out all of Harry’s interest in learning more about how “mortal magic” come to be, and he ended up spending the whole class playing wizardry chess with Ron. So far he hadn’t won a single round yet—but he’s coming close.

_I need to introduce this to Papa._ Harry declared, watching the little pieces move with fascination. _Christmas present. Yep._

_Oh god no_. Tom huffed. _Papa already beat Dad in every other board game. Adding chess to the plate? Let’s not bruise Dad’s ego._

Defence Against Dark Arts was literally a joke, much to Harry’s disappointment. Very quickly he learned not to trust Professor Quirrell to teach him anything useful…The stupid garlic smell gave Harry a headache every time he sat in the Defence classroom, and even Tom had a bad feeling about that turban. Even though all this was superficial…Harry decided to get as far away from Professor Quirrell as possible.

And there was also Potions…Harry really didn’t know what to say about Potions. One on hand Professor Snape was out to catch every single mistake he makes, but on the other Harry loved the subject. It’s like an upgraded version of lab time with Uncle Bruce, or ritual-preparations with Loki. It wasn’t rare that Loki may need some kind of potion and rune for some of his more long-term and more powerful rituals, and Harry used to be his “assistant” before Loki left earth for Thor’s coronation—overall Harry was familiar with the notion of extremely precise measure of brewing potions. He did, however, found it weird that they were still using cauldrons…seriously? Why are they going to such extremes just for the look? Harry doubted if flask and alcohol burners would work worse than medieval looking cauldron and dungeons…

When he mentioned his question to Draco, the latter just shrugged. “Literally anything can be used to brew potions.” He replied, “Even a fruit bowl, if you can control the process precisely. Of course, the shape and size of a standard cauldron is the easiest to use, and that’s why we’re all asked to use cauldrons at school.”

The rumour about All-Speak spread like viruses, just as Hermione and Draco had planned. Those two together made an unstoppable force—it was quite scary, actually. Then rumour rose that after Loki failed to take over the planet, the responsibility had fallen onto Harry, and that his first step was to take over the wizardry world…well. Draco still called this a success even though Harry couldn’t see how “World-Domination Tendency” is better than “being able to speak to snakes.”

Halloween was one thing Harry really looked forward to—he couldn’t _wait_ to see what everyone come up with. They’re wizards, after all! Harry himself, of course, was playing Iron Man with an _actual suit_ , and on the morning of Halloween he found out that Ron had made himself a Wizard King Chess Piece. “Ooooh, King Weasley!” Harry peered at Ron’s painted face and hands and basically whole body, giggling, “God, Ron, it’s gonna take forever to clean it up afterwards.”

“I’m prepared to ask Professor Flitwick for help,” Ron said proudly. Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him that he could, really, achieve the same effect with illusions.

Neville disappeared even before Harry woke up, and Dean and Seamus dressed as angels with enchanted wings. “Dean came up with it.” Seamus told them, playing with his hair, “I mean, we’re supposed to play angel versus devil, but then no one wants to be the devil, so.”

Ron looked at them, puzzled. “I thought all muggle angels are naked?” He asked, “Why aren’t you guys naked?”

That set off Harry’s hysterical laughter, which didn’t die down even as he was putting on his glasses. Since he was wearing his full suit but still wasn’t allowed to cover up his face (well, they’re still having classes) Harry would use his specially made glasses to control the suit. As visual sensor locked onto Harry’s eyes, the world in front of him was suddenly laid out in blue holographic images, and the suit whirled to life.

“This is really cool.” Ron said, eyeing the metal plates covering Harry’s body, “It’s like the armours in the school, except with cooler colour and everything.”

Harry had to grin at that. Of course…red and yellow, wasn’t that exactly the reason he liked Gryffindor at first sight? 

They walked down to the common room together, and found Hermione waiting for them by the fireplace. Hermione dressed up as a Disney Princess, although Harry couldn’t remember the name. “I transfigured one of my muggle dresses.” She shrugged, “And asked Professor McGonagall to stabilized the charm for me. Nice costume, Harry, although I suspect it’s not really a costume. Is it?”

“Thanks.” Harry beamed, showing off his arm pieces, “But yea, you’re right, it’s the real thing. Less function though, giving way to being thinner and more convenient.” What he didn’t say was that there actually was still weapons stored in his suit, in cases of emergency.

“The colour fits really well.” Ron added. Harry found it really hard not to giggle at a painted, dark-faced Ron.

Just as they chatted, the door to the common room opened and a boy who was apparently dressed up as an owl popped his head in: “Harry Stark-Lokason in there?” He asked, then those creepy yellow eyes spotted Harry, “Oh, here you are. There are two guys looking for you.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Harry guessed, walking up to the portrait door, Hermione in tow. 

“Probably not.” The owl-boy shook his head, “Look like fifth years. One of them has a costume like yours.”

Harry frowned as he climbed out of the door. Fifth years? He didn’t know that much fifth year students, aside from Ron’s brother and his group of friends, but then they were all Gryffindors…And then a costume like his? A muggle-born then. Harry couldn’t think of anyone on the top of his head.

The two boys were standing close to the door, examining the portraits as Harry climbed out. One of them turned—and indeed, his costume was almost exactly the same as Harry’s. He had wild brown hair and eyes shiny like amber, with a big wide grin on his face. The other boy—taller, with raven black hair and blue-green eyes—was clasped in an elegant green and golden armour. Harry gasped, and almost fell backwards onto Hermione as he realized just what he was seeing.

“Dad! Papa! How—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have four chapters about Halloween and decided to update one each day :D so tomorrow would be Halloween Part II
> 
> I'm actually quite nervous about all the changes I'm making to the original...does anyone feel like it's too much?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Part II!

There weren’t many people in the Great Halls when the group arrived. Harry led them all to the Gryffindor table, upon which pumpkin pies and cookies and other treats were already available. He thought he might’ve seen a few people glancing at Loki, but Harry was really too excited to care.

“How did you get here?” was the first thing Harry asked after he hugged each of Loki and Tony, “And why do you both look fifteen?”

The owl-boy actually guessed right. Both Tony and Loki looked impossibly young and fresh, one of them bouncy and energetic while the other elegant and calm. Loki’s wearing his complete battle suit with extremely cute, shrunken horns, and Tony’s wearing his newest suit.

“Mostly your papa’s illusions. I mean, real de-aging include memory loss and it’s not a great time to enjoy that right now. Then I asked Strange to open a portal to the castle. He said the wards around here was really powerful—quite impressing.” Tony picked up a piece of pumpkin shaped cookie suspiciously, and almost dropped it when the pumpkin let out evil laughter at him. He turned to Loki, holding the cookie out: “How come Asgard doesn’t have anything as fun as this? Aren’t you guys supposed to be supreme or something?”

Loki snatched the cookie from Tony’s hands and stared down at it with a ghost of smile on his lips. “Odin cares more about muscle than magic.” He said, then feeding the cookie back to Tony, “When I was three centuries old I used to make things like these as pranks—then Odin would lock me in the dungeons for scaring the servants in the palace.”

Ron was sitting next to Harry, stuffing his face with pumpkin pie, and Hermione was looking up at Tony and Loki like a fangirl. Well, Harry supposed she _was_ a fangirl after all. Harry picked up a cookie and bit into it, grinning at the taste. Of course, he should’ve realized the grande finale Tony was planning was showing up at his Halloween party pretending to be a Hogwarts student! Well, it was more surprising that Loki actually agreed and went with the plan, especially given that the situation back in the States wasn’t looking so good…speaking of which…

“How is SHIELD doing?” Harry asked. The last time he talked with Tony (three days ago), Tony said that someone in the organization was selling Avengers related information to outside sources. 

“Why, it’s giving me a headache.” Tony’s lips thinned to a line, “We have a few suspects of who are selling our information, but we can’t just waltz in and take them down cuz there are way too many connections behind them. Tasha is spying on one of the top suspects right now—we’re waiting for her to report back.” 

Loki finished off his sentence: “Which is precisely why we can take our time touring this school.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“And kid, what classes do you have today?” Tony asked, inhaling another piece of cookie. 

Harry made a mental note for mailing home at least a box of those biscuits, then answered: “Charms and History of Magic in the morning, and Potions in the afternoon.” He glanced at the Head Table, even though there was no teacher present there, “Are you staying for the whole day? For the feast?”

“Yep. Just thought to look around a bit.” Tony nodded, then winked at Harry, “Don’t worry, we won’t get caught.”

Hermione coughed lightly at that. Harry supposed she couldn’t quite deal with Tony’s…awesomeness.

“Oh, and I probably should tell you this,” Tony said, tilting his head, “Since I have been planning to expand my tech empire into the magic world, I found a few contact info in SHIELD document. A few people in the Ministry of Magic, another few in the Congress and more all over the world—I left Pepper to deal with them. Just thought you might want to know.” 

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, as did Hermione, and Loki chuckled. Ron completely ignored the conversation in favour of more pumpkin pie, not realizing the implication of those words. Tony continued.

“There’s also a few…er, alchemist and potion masters I found as well. One of them became pen-friend with Bruce.” He pouted at that, “I think Bruce is abandoning our science bro trio.” He looked pointedly at Loki.

“Or simply accepting another into the group.” Loki corrected, smiling, “You have to admit, that man is a lot more capable than you when it comes to potions.”

"It's _chemistry_ we're talking about, Lokes. Not _Potions_." Tony pouted.

"Same difference."

“What—” Harry had finally finished coughing, “Dad, you never told me!” He complained, “You’re _researching magic_!”

Tony actually had the gut to look unperturbed at Harry’s accusation: “Like hell I won’t be?”

“Muggle science and magic make really interesting things.” Ron commented, perking up at the topic, “My dad has a car that can fly.”

“Fly as in, powered by magic.” Harry clarified. Because, well, Tony can certainly make his cars fly by non-magic means.

“That sounds fun.” Tony raised an eyebrow, “You should introduce him to me at some point.”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Ron beamed brightly, “Dad would be—”

“What with your father now, Weasley?” Harry spun around and saw Draco, “Hey Harry, I’m dressing up as an elf this year! How does it look? I transfigured it all by myself.”

For a second, none of Harry, Ron or Hermione answered. Harry was busy staring at Draco’s getup—a super tight, armour-like clothing that made him look…Harry didn't really know how to describe that feeling. Prettier than usual, he guessed.

 _You’re eleven, honey. You’re hopeless._ Tom told him firmly.

Then Draco turned to Tony and Loki: “And who are you?” He demanded, “I’ve never seen you before—what house are you in?”

“Um…” _no, Draco, don’t, you don’t want to mess with them—_ The rest of the sentence died on Harry’s tongue when Tony answered: “You can’t possibly expect to know everyone in Ravenclaw, can you?” When Draco scowled, Tony smirked, “Arno Téleios. That’s Luke Skywalker. Pleased to meet you.”

 _Luke Skywalker? Is Dad serious?_ Tom was giggling in Harry’s head. Hermione also made a squeaky noise at that, then pretended to be drinking her juice.

Loki stood up, pulling Tony up with him before Draco could retort. “Come, it’s time for us to depart.” He said, glancing at Draco, looking mildly amused, “A little gift for you, Lord Malfoy.”

Draco yelped as a wave of green mist surrounded him. His hair was lengthened all the way to the smalls of his back, and his ears turned pointy. The suit changed as well—instead of the green suit it turned into bronze looking metal armour, with intriguing runes carved all over it, and dark green undershirt and cloak that swept down to the floor. Bow and arrows appeared behind his back, and the magic touched upon Draco’s face in the end. Those grey eyes turned lighter, stormier, and his face softened, tuned slightly with a pure, light aura around him. 

Harry’s heart leapt and his cookie dropped to the ground. There was a moment when Draco stared down at his new costume dizzily, then he spun around, searching the Hall for Loki and Tony. The duo was already nowhere to be found, and Draco looked back down at himself. “What—” His voice cracked as he tried to find words to describe this bizarre situation, “What just happened?”

“There,” Harry said solemnly, “You just met my parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going "Poor Draco" again when I wrote this..._(:3 J L )_
> 
> Anyone wondering about Arno Téleios and Luke Skywalker? I believe in the comics Tony actually has a brother called Arno, and the Téleios literally means Stark in Greek. And Luke Skywalker? :D I've seen so many fics where Loki called himself Luke to conceal his identity, then I found out that he has a title "Skywalker" (technically it's Sky Traveler but) and I've been wanting to write Tony teasing him about it for _ages_. 
> 
> Loki and Tony aren't visiting Harry's classes, even though I would really like to see Tony messing with the professors. I just don't think I would be able to control a scene like that...so they're mostly going on adventures on their own while class happens.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Part III!

Tony and Loki showed up briefly again during lunch. Apparently Tony was having fun exploring the castle, and he listed more than ten shortcuts and secret passages he found in one breath to Harry. All Harry did was gaping at him blankly.

“You found more secret passages in two hours than I did in two months.” He finally stated blandly, while Ron was nodding fiercely beside him, “Dad, please write them all down for me? Pleeeease?”

Tony shot him an amused look and promised he would.

Of course, according to Loki that was “an extraordinarily easy task,” since when one has lived for “almost a millennium” in a “palace more complicated”, one “naturally knows where to look.” Harry can’t even imagine what a delightful disaster it would be if Tony and Loki were actual students of Hogwarts…

Draco, the first victim of their prank, turned into Loki’s most loyal fan in the span of ten minutes. Things got even funnier when Professor Flitwick walked by and awarded Slytherin five points for the excellent charms Draco put on his costume. Harry almost fell off his chair as he giggled, and Tony’s grin went wide. The two of them left again before Potions began, and by that time both Draco and Hermione were flushing with the excitement of all the snippets of knowledge Loki mentioned during the feast. 

Harry was suddenly having the feeling that, this was going to be a _long_ day…

***

“Yes, Draco, elves exist.” Harry said for the third time in half an hour, “And yes, Papa transformed you into a light elf, so anything you feel right now is normal—it’s going to wear off in a day max.”

“ _How can I not be excited!_ ” Draco was literally shrieking, which Harry had never seen the boy do before, “I can _feel_ myself being different—faster, agiler, and I _swear_ my eyesight is a hundred times better than before now. And god I can feel the magic filling my body!”

“Yes, Draco.” Harry said tiredly, “That’s exactly how it feels like to be an immortal." He knew because Loki had also tried this trick on Harry a couple of times, and while excited Harry really didn't want to fail Potions either, "Can you shut up and pass my that beetle shell please? Snape’s not going to kill you but _we are in a group and he’s going to kill_ _me_ _if we don’t finish this potion on time_.”

Ron patted Harry on the back sympathetically as he passed by, hands full of ingredients. Hermione, on the other hand, was equally excited, and Harry had no doubt that she was going to run to the library the minute Potions finished, to search out any information the wizardry world may have on the Nine Realms. As Harry faintly remembered, there were various tales of elves even in the wizardry stories, and he wondered how much of it was actually true—as in, based on the light elves that visited Earth eons ago. To think that those elves in the stories might still be alive…wow it feels mind-blowing.

“Harry, do you think there’s a chance I can stay in this form after today?” Draco was still buzzing with excitement beside Harry, and Harry briefly wondered if this was also a side effect of being a light elf. He scooped up the bowl of ginger root and started grinding them: “No, Draco, not unless you want to perform a very complicated ritual. Which I do not recommend you to do.” 

Draco sighed, looking at the ingredient on the table. “I feel so good like this.” 

Harry actually paused at that comment and looked up at Draco. He knew that Draco was referring to the energy he felt being impersonated as an immortal, but if he said Draco didn’t look good in this outfit it was certainly a lie…If anything, Draco fit perfectly as a light elf, with his light blond hair and grey-blue eyes and the elegant and swift motions. Harry would imagine Draco as an elf prince, like Legolas…

“Mr. Stark-Lokason.” Snape’s voice snapped Harry back into reality, and he almost jumped when he saw the potions master looming over him. “Maybe you should focus more on your potion instead of Mr. Malfoy’s face. One point from Gryffindor.” He said, then turned away, his robe sweeping on the floor, drawing a perfect circle.

Harry wondered for a moment if those robes were enchanted like the Aesir cloaks, then he ducked his head and went back to his cauldron. After Snape passed by them he peered up and glared at Draco. “ _I told you!_ ” He hissed, “Now you’re responsible for that one point I just lost.”

Draco looked totally unapologetic.

When Harry and Ron reached the Great Hall in the evening for the Halloween banquet, the school had been redecorated for the festival. A thousand living bats swooped over the table, and a thousand more fluttered on the walls. The floating candles were enchanted to shine a shade of green (Ron snickered at the colour) adding to the ominous atmosphere, and treats were served on golden plates. Harry sat down beside Ron, feeling his saliva secreting uncontrollably as delicious looking food appeared on the table.

“We should save some for Hermione.” Ron said, his mouth stuffed with jacket potatoes, “I can’t believe she chose library and Malfoy over this absolute marvel!”

“Yea.” Harry agreed, helping himself to some pudding. 

Hermione had rushed out of the dungeon and straight towards the library, towing Draco with her, and declared that there would be no need to look for them even if they didn’t show up all the way until curfew. None of Harry’s parents came either—Tony just messaged Harry saying that he was having too much fun exploring a maze even though he was kind of disappointed that there was no prize in the end. Harry decided to not say anything about it—just _where_ did Tony find a _maze_ in _Hogwarts_ anyways??? Actually, no, Harry wouldn’t want to know that. He suspected he would be tempted by the game too much and then get into trouble.

Just as Harry was feeding himself another spoonful of pudding, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall. His face showed absolute horror as he reached the staff table and leaned against it. Harry wasn't sure if he was imagining things, but he thought he could smell garlic even this far, and the smell automatically induced a headache for him.

 _God, what is_ _wrong_ _with this guy._ Tom moaned.

“Troll—” Professor Quirrell gasped, “In the dungeons—help—thought you ought to know.” Then he fainted and collapsed onto the ground.

The Great Hall exploded with sounds. It took two seconds for Harry’s brain to catch up with the fact. Suddenly he felt his heart clenched. Tony and Loki were still somewhere in the castle—Harry quickly used his phone to send a message to Tony, alerting him to the presence of a potentially dangerous creature. Then he remembered that Draco and Hermione were still probably in the library…oh god no.

Dumbledore’s voice rang all over the hall: “Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitory at once!”

Ron stood up at Percy’s howl across the table, but Harry grabbed him at once. “Hermione and Draco.” He gasped, and saw Ron’s eyes widen in realization and horror, “They don’t know about the troll.”

Ron cursed. “Bloody hell. We need to get a professor.” He said, and as he glanced around the Hall he realized all the professors had left in search of the troll, “Well, alright, we need to get _them_.”

 _Wait_. Tom interrupted in Harry’s head. _We’ll get into trouble._

 _Fuck yes trouble, Hermione and Draco might get_ _eaten_ _by the troll!_ Harry yelled back.

 _We still need to leave_ _something_ _for the staff. Use that, trailing charm._

 _What_? Harry asked.

 _Just do it. Since we’re so determinedly looking for trouble, might as well save us from some nasty results._ Tom said impatiently.

Harry obeyed. He pulled out his wand and whispered “ _Trahentluxium_ ”① as he and Ron ducked into a corridor. A soft light flickered at the tip of his wand, and Harry knew it meant that the trail was created. Anyone looking close enough would be able to trace the light and find where he was.

“What’s that?” Ron asked. Of course he had never seen the spell before—it wasn’t even on _Standard Book for Spells: Grade 1_.

“Not important.” Harry answered, started up his thrusters, grabbed Ron’s hand, and zoomed through the corridor. Ron yelped at the sudden movement. Honestly, Harry wasn’t too comfortable in this pose either, but this was much faster than traveling on foot. They reached the library, and Harry dropped Ron off. 

“Mate, that’s—really awesome—although I would love to—not try it again in—at least another year.” Ron panted. Harry got the distinct impression that his face paled despite the obscuring painting.

He rushed into the library. “Madame Pince!” He yelled, “Hi, sorry, are Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy in the library?”

Madame Pince looked up from her book. She shook her head at Harry’s question: “They just left.”

_Damn it._

“Um, do you know where they might be?” Ron asked, “It’s quite important, please?”

Madame Pince thought about it. “The Granger girl said something about missing her backpack.” She finally said, “That’s all I know, boys.”

“Potions classroom then.” Harry decided. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember whether Hermione had her backpack with her when she rushed out of the room or not…Okay, that’s a lead. “Thank you so much!”

“And Madame, just so you know,” Ron said, “There’s a trOLL IN THE DUNGEON HARRY AHHHH—” He yelled as Harry grabbed his wrist and yanked him off ground again.

Harry flew into one of the secret passages Tony told him, and when he flew out of the end he almost bumped into someone. “Ow! Draco!” He called out in relief as he identified the person in front of him.

“What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?” Draco asked, frowning as he took in the duo’s appearance, “Did something happen?”

“There’s a troll—in the dungeon—come to warn you.” Ron panted, “Seriously—Harry, don’t ever try—doing this again—I’d rather get—eaten—”

“A _troll_? How did a _troll_ get in here?” Hermione demanded, clenching her backpack protectively.

“That’s for later.” Draco decided immediately, “If there is a troll loose in the dungeon we need to go back to the Great Hall _right now_.”

“Yeah—right—” Ron was still panting, “Let’s—”

A roar suddenly came from the corridor behind Harry. Hermione’s eyes widened, and Harry spun around so fast that he feared his neck snap. Sure enough, a twelve-foot tall troll was lumbering towards them, dragging a club. How they didn’t hear it approaching from a mile away Harry didn’t know, but there _was_ only one possible solution to this—

“RUN!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ① I made this up, sticking “trahentium,” which Google Translate told me is Latin for trail, and “lux,” which is light, together. It leaves a magic trail that tracks where the spell caster has gone to. Guess why Tom asked Harry to do that?
> 
> Part one of troll!
> 
> This story is getting really long...I'm seriously in need of shrinking parts...I'm estimating about 35 chapters for this year rn.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final part of Halloween

“ _How is this fucker_ _still_ _chasing us and where the_ _hell_ _are we?!_ ”

Hermione shrieked “Language!” the same time Draco snapped: “I don’t know! In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in the dungeon anymore and I have no idea _where we are_!”

Right. That’s exactly what Harry wanted. Being pursued by a goddamn troll and being lost at the same fucking time. Aren’t trolls supposed to be stupid?

As they made another narrow turn, Harry found themselves in an open space—a balcony. At least five stories high. 

“Bloody hell, how did we get up here?” Ron yelled, “I swear to Merlin we didn’t walk up a single step of stair!”

Well, apparently Hogwarts castle had some magic to it. It didn’t really matter because they had come to a dead end. Harry turned around and saw the troll tumbling towards them at an impossibly fast speed. He instinctively raised his wand, even though he had no idea what spell to use. What could possibly be useful when facing a Mountain Troll? He’s pretty sure he hadn’t learned anything of that sort yet...

 _Use your magic!_ Tom yelled in his head. _Idiot, have you forgotten that you’re also a sorcerer?!_

 _Right. Shit. Fuck. I actually did._ Harry thought in disbelief. His brain was whirling with ideas now...too bad he didn’t bring his sling ring with him...

But first things first. Extending his hand, Harry let the illusions wash over him and his friends, showing an empty balcony instead of the four humans. The troll actually stopped at that, paused in his steps and looked around in confusion.

“What did you do? It worked!” Hermione whispered beside Harry.

Harry didn’t have time to answer—his brain was still racing. _Do I attack or hold here until someone finds us?_ He asked anxiously. _It’s not seeing us now but if I attack..._

 _Calm down. Stay down. It’s gonna go away._ Tom said. _The staff should come at any moment now._

Harry was holding his breath as the troll walked around in confusion, a couple times missing the four by only a couple of feet. Draco was stiff behind Harry, and everyone was still and silent. The troll finally let out an angry roar for losing its subjects, and aimlessly waved its club at the wall…

Suddenly a stroke of green magic flashed into reality and hit the troll right in its head. Startled, Harry looked up to see his father, now dressed in his full battle suit with the _real_ thorny helmet, storming into his view, his expression cold and furious. No, furious didn’t even begin to cover it— _livid_. Loki was livid.

“If you—”

The troll was snatched up by an invisible force, its limbs flailing uncontrollably. 

“Ever—”

Its head clashed violently with the wall, shaking the whole castle. 

“Dare to—”

Another clash. Harry shuddered at the sickening sound of (possibly) bone fracturing. 

“Touch my—” 

Third clash. The troll seemed to be unconscious now. The wall got kind of destroyed.

“Son again—”

Green _seidr_ leeched onto the troll, just as a flash of red and gold also blasted into view. 

“In the name of Valhalla—”

Crack, Boom. Harry realized that was Tony shooting a shoulder missile right in the troll’s eyes. Hey, why hadn’t _he_ thought of that? Technically the suit he had also had that amount of firepower. 

“I will make you _suffer even in Helheim_.”

Harry watched the troll fall to the ground with a "thud" and promptly dropped his illusions.

“Wow.” Draco breathed behind Harry.

There was a brief silence as Loki’s gaze drifted to Harry’s group. “Are you hurt?” He asked, voice softening as he walked over.

Harry shook his head. “I’m okay.” He said, peering at the troll, “Is it dead?”

“Knocked out,” Tony said through the suit speaker, and Harry didn’t know if it was his imagination but Tony also sounded extremely angry. “This thing’s pretty tough. I’ll be demanding an explanation from your headmaster as to how in the name of _fuck_ did this guy get into a _school_ , of all places.”

Both Hermione and Ron swallowed uneasily at Tony’s sneer. At that, hurried footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor, and Harry looked up from the body of the troll to see Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Professor Quirrell coming into view. Quirrell let out a faint whimper at the sight, and Snape hurried to the troll, casting a few spells Harry didn’t recognize. Professor McGonagall looked as livid as Loki did. Her lips were thinned to a line and pressed white: “What _ARE_ all of you thinking?! Going after a troll all by yourselves! You’re lucky you aren’t _killed_!”

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again and still no explanation came out. Draco was the one who raised his hand: “Professor, they were looking for me and Granger.” He said calmly.

Snape looked up from the spell-work he was performing.

Draco continued. “We weren’t at the banquet, so we didn’t know about the troll. I was accompanying Granger to the Potions classroom to retrieve her backpack when Harry and Weasley came to warn us. Then.” He signalled the troll, “It appeared and started chasing us.”

“Why _on earth_ are you two not at the banquet then?” McGonagall demanded.

“We were researching in the library on…” Hermione trailed off, suddenly pink, “…things.”

McGonagall opened his mouth again to say something, but this time Loki cut her off. “I think before you interrogate the children on _what they do in their spare time_ , you should explain why this abomination is in the castle in the first place.” He said with cold fury in his voice, “And why was it going after the—students.”

“And you are?” McGonagall turned to him.

“Kids, you should go.” Tony landed on the floor, flipping up his faceplate. And yep, he looked as furious as he was when he found out about Thanos’ tampering with Loki’s mind. “Adult conversation time.”

Harry almost protested, but when Draco tugged him he obeyed. Snape was asked (of all goddamn people!) to escort all of them back to their dorm, and it was so uncomfortable that Harry didn’t dare talking to any of his friends during the short journey. They remained all in silence until the group reached the Fat Lady portrait, then Snape suddenly spoke up.

“Mr. Weasley and Mr—Stark-Lokason.” Snape said in his smooth, low voice, “I would’ve taken at least fifty points off Gryffindor for your heroic idiocy, but it was a pleasant surprise that Mr. Stark-Lokason has had the foresight to leave his professors a trail to track him down. That being said, ten points to Gryffindor for your precautions; next time, kindly fetch a staff before you go on an idiotic quest. Have a good night.” He said, grabbing a shellshocked Draco on the shoulder and turning around, his robe sweeping on the floor.

The trio stood frozen in front of the portrait.

 _I told you it’s going to save you a lot of trouble._ Tom sounded smug. _Now I just saved your House, hmm, sixty points._

Harry was too shocked to answer.

A moment or two later, Ron asked shakily: “Did Snape just awarded Gryffindor ten points?”

“I think I just witnessed the end of the world.” Harry swallowed.

“Oh come on, you guys are so antagonizing Professor Snape. He’s not all _that_ horrible.” Hermione suddenly came to life again, and she sounded strangely unperturbed. “Pig snout.” She said to the portrait, and the door swung open. Harry noticed that she wasn't wearing shoes anymore, and figured that, no, running in high heels and dresses really wasn't a great idea. “And Harry? You’ve got to tell me what exactly you did there. Now come in—I’m starving.”

***

“So what did you talk to Professor Dumbledore about?” Harry asked curiously.

“Oh, I just appealed to his humanity a bit.” Tony made a face. He had gone back to New York after his day-trip at Hogwarts, and had the heart to ring Harry and report in, “ He was going on and on about you being a special snowflake and that everything is worth the opportunity of learning about your true self, and your papa got really mad. Anyways, it worked out in the end—you’re staying, unless you don’t want to anymore.” He paused, “Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to stay,” Harry assured them. Appealing to Dumbledore’s humanity? That was a bit of inside joke…and it basically meant “threatening.” Harry almost laughed out loud at that thought.

"Are you certain?" Loki asked, brows furrowing, "Anthony wished to consult your opinion, but this school has proven to be inadequate in protecting the safety of its own students..."

"I want to." Harry said again, then shrugged, "It's only one time. Plus, I have all my friends here." He glanced up to check on his friends, who were sitting in the armchair opposing him. Ron was staring at him intensely, so was Hermione, and Harry added, “Ron and Hermione said thanks for saving our arses.”

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, apparently not pleased with Harry’s language.

Tony laughed. “Tell them I said hi.” He said, “Hope you guys wouldn't mind Lokes and I messing around a bit. We found an interesting ghost that's into all sorts of pranking and Loki might have given him a favour."

A ghost that's into pranking...Harry blinked. _Peeves? Oh god._ He could see where this would end up...

"He's more fun than most wizards in the castle." Loki said dismissively, "Rest assure, Harold, I did not provide him anything that can cause serious harm to the students. Just some suggestions." He paused, "Anytime, you can call him off if you need to. Tell him you are the Prince of Jotunheim and he will listen. He has to." 

 _Papa got Peeves to swear an oath?_ Tom exclaimed. _That's impressive! I thought no one could do anything with Peeves._

Tony took over the conversation at this point. "There’s also something else. Remember the maze I was telling you about? I think you should go try it. It’s really fun if you aren’t cheating to get through—I wasn’t expecting something like that in a schoolyard! I’m going to build something like that in the gym.”

“What?” Harry asked, curious. In his armchair, he could also see Ron perking up at the mention of something fun.

“Tuck, tuck, no spoilers. _You_ should experience all the fun.” Tony grinned, “The only disappointing thing was that the only thing at the end of it was a slip of paper with the name ‘Nicholas Flamel’ on it. I guess it’s the answer to a bonus question on a test, perhaps?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. Indeed, Tony’s got his interest up—now he’s really looking forward to whatever “game” or “maze” this could possibly be. “And where could this maze be?” He asked.

“It’s on the third floor of your castle. Righthand side of the corridor.” Tony answered, “The door’s locked with a huge wooden lock—it took me less than two minutes to pick it though. Actually, I saw a guy with this funny scarf on his head wandering around there too—reckon he set it up?” He checked his watch, “Gotta go now, kid, we have a meeting to catch.”

"Lady Pepper will not be pleased if you show up late again." Loki commented.

" _You_ could've gone as me." Tony pointed out, "It's not like you haven't done it before." 

Harry waved his goodbye as the two bickered. Only as Tony and Loki’s image dissolved did his head wrap around what Tony said. “Um.” He looked at his companions, “Did my father just said he went into the place that Dumbledore said would cause a painful death for anyone who tries to enter?”

“It’s _Professor_ Dumbledore,” Hermione said, but she sounded distracted.

“Yep. And it’s a fun maze and the only award in the end was a slip of paper.” Ron confirmed that Harry wasn’t hallucinating.

“Well, perhaps it’s meant to be a secret?” Harry said, “I wonder what Professor Quirrell was doing around there...” It had to be him since there was only one person that scarf description could fit for. Was the maze a project for Defence Against Dark Arts then? Maybe the final exam? Ooh, that sounds fun.

“What about that Flamel guy?” Ron asked, “I wonder who he is.”

Hermione thought about it and shook her head. “I've never heard that name before. I’ll check out _Greatest Wizards of the Twentieth Century_.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Alright then. That's my goal for the month.” He announced, “Find out who Nicholas Flamel can possibly be...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Update tomorrow :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch time! Even though Harry wasn't Seeker this year...

Then came the Quidditch season. First game in November was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and that was the first time Draco and Harry’s trio officially opposed each other. Harry sat with his friends, watching the game curiously.

Even the rules were complicated enough—Quaffles, Bludgers, Golden Snitches…Harry squinted and thought he might be seeing a flash of gold rushing by…

“Is that the snitch?” He pointed at the golden dot in the sky. 

Ron stretched his neck: “Where?”

“Never mind.” Harry said as the light flashed out a second later, “It’s gone now—Oh wait, it’s over there.” He pointed to another point on the field, thinking how easy this game would be if the players could put on an Iron Man helmet and track that little walnut.

For the whole second half of the game Ron continued pestering Harry to tell him where the snitch is, and in the end, he declared that Harry would make an awesome Seeker and was so excited that he almost stood up and rush to Professor McGonagall halfway through. Hermione smacked Ron in the head with the _Living Habits of Vampires_ she was reading and told him to let Harry enjoy the game himself. Ron didn’t look so pleased, but Harry was secretly glad for Hermione’s interruption.

At the third hour of the game, the snitch still wasn’t caught. Harry was beginning to see what Ron meant when he said Harry would make an excellent Seeker—the Seekers from both houses had spotted the snitch for less than ten times in this whole three hours period whereas Harry was able to see their location every few minutes. Harry guessed it had something to do with his frequent training with archery, holograms, and illusions. He was checking his watch for the fifth time when he noticed something unusual—a Bludger was shaking violently, and dodged Fred (who was a Gryffindor Beater) and—

“It’s flying towards us!” Hermione shrieked. Ron tried to pacify her: “Hermione, the stands are all warded, it’s not going to get you!”

But Harry’s stomach was sinking at the sight…it felt as if someone was staring at him, and he had the distinct feeling that the Bludger was aiming at _him_. 

 _Is it me being paranoid?_ He wondered, watching Fred rush in front of them and beat the Bludger away. But the shaky Bludger was persistent—it turned and charged towards the audience again.

 _Better safe than sorry,_ Tom whispered, and in a split second’s thought Harry jumped aside, leaving an illusion in place. A second later, the Bludger pierced through Harry’s illusion and embedded in the seat he was sitting on no more than half a minute ago.

There was a brief silence before Ron shrieked: “Harry!”

“Here.” Harry said, grabbing Ron’s sleeves. There was an uproar amongst the audience—and the team and the commentary as well. Jordan was bellowing, all the while Professor McGonagall was trying to take his mic away. Harry stared at the Bludger as it wriggled itself free from the hole it created, then as though it could see Harry, it whirled forward again.

“The Bludger is jinxed!” Hermione screamed. Now people in the audience were all yelling, trying to get away from the Bludger. It charged and missed Harry by inches, just as someone called out: “Harry Potter! It’s targeting Harry Potter!”

 _Seriously?_ Tom asked, annoyed. _They_ _still_ _call us Potter?_

Hermione waved her wand about, casting a Fire Charm on the Bludger, which had literally zero effect. Harry was extremely glad for wearing his boots everywhere now, as he shot up into the sky, dodging the Bludger again.

The Bludger followed Harry away from the stands. Harry saw Dumbledore getting up from his seat in the professor’s stands, and both Snape and Quirrell staring at him intensely, mumbling something under their breaths. George circled him, fiercely beating the Bludger with his bat.

“Harry, duck!” Fred yelled from the other side. It was a miracle that the Quidditch was still in session—shouldn’t they be calling a freaking time-out?! Well, it seemed that Harry had to solve things on his own. Again.

Lucky that he had a few tricks up his sleeves this time. Fumbling around the air, he finally managed to fish out his sling ring from his pocket. The first three attempts to make a portal failed as the Bludger kept interrupting, but the fourth time Harry succeeded, and with a swift hand movement, he pushed the portal towards the incoming Bludger. The Bludger didn’t have enough time to turn, and Harry closed the portal the second it was transported to the other side. He hadn’t been particular on the destination of the portal, but Harry doubted if it could still come after him when it’s sent to, oh, say, Svartalfheim.

Another brief silence. Fred and George cheered and gave Harry their thumb-ups, then flew back into the games. Professor McGonagall finally managed to snatch the mic from Jordan, and said: “Mr. Stark-Lokason, please proceed at once to the infirmary! And everyone else, ten-minute break before the game resumes!”

Harry landed on the ground, feeling dizzy. The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, dutifully escorted Harry to the hospital wing, where Hermione and Ron joined him. Hermione rushed up and enveloped him in a fierce hug: “Harry, oh god you scared me!”

“I’m alive.” Harry joked weakly as Madame Pomfrey showered him with spells. She then declared that Harry needs rest and gave him a whole box of chocolate, which was supposed to help with the shock. The three of them left the hospital wing shortly after, but none of them were in the mood for going back to the games, not even Ron.

Hermione led them to the open grass field near the Great Lake. They all sat down on the field, Harry nibbling at the chocolate, and Ron let out a relieved sigh: “Merlin, that was a close call.”

“It’s not that bad.” Harry assured him, “We didn’t even lose points for destroying school property—I’m pretty sure that Bludger is going to be forever lost."

“Harry! How can you still be caring about points!” Hermione sounded distressed, “Someone in the school is out to get you, how can you—”

“It’s Snape.” Ron said grudgingly, “I saw him staring at the Bludger like he’s going to eat it alive, and jinxes need eye contact to work.”

“So was Professor Quirrell.” Harry countered. It was a strange feeling, but he trusted Snape to not kill him. “But wandless magic doesn’t require eye contact, so really, everyone is suspect.”

“Yes they do.” Hermione frowned and looked at Harry, then shook her head, “No, Harry, you’re thinking about Dr. Strange’s branch of magic, or even Aesir magic, which probably doesn’t have as many restrictions. Wandless _normal_ jinx does need eye contact. But if Professor Quirrell was also staring at you…” She trailed off, clearly not knowing what to make of two Hogwarts teacher attempting to murder Harry.

“Ha, I know.” Ron said triumphantly, “Snape was trying to jinx you, and Professor Quirrell was trying to counter the jinx! That’s got to be it—isn’t he the Defence Against Dark Arts teacher? He probably recognized the dark magic Snape was using!”

Harry didn’t bother countering that, but honestly, he thought it was the other way around.

But he wasn’t taking his eyes off other suspects either—even if Hermione said wizardry jinx can only be cast with eye contact, Harry was sure in the past however many years _some_ charms masters must have developed a way around that restriction. Who knows if it wasn’t another student’s doing? Well, except Harry really couldn’t think of a reason for someone to try and _kill_ him…

“Harry!” Harry looked up and saw Draco running towards them, with Zabini striding calmly behind him. The blond boy came to a stop in front of Harry and breathed: “You okay? Are you hurt?”

“Perfectly fine.” Harry said the same time Ron piped up: “We’re just discussing how Snape had jinxed the Bludger.”

“Professor Snape?” Draco echoed, “You can’t seriously believe that—”

“We don’t. Not important.” Harry put up his hands, putting a stop to the topic. He’s holding it off until he has further evidence. “Is the game still going?”

Draco shifted his attention to Harry and smirked. “Nope. Gryffindor caught the snitch, but Slytherin has won this round.” He announced.

Ron groaned.

“Wait till we beat you in the House Cup, Malfoy.”

“Oh, I’m waiting for it, Weasley.” Draco said smugly, then as if remembering something, “Harry, the guy you asked me about, Flamel, Blaise helped me find out something about him. Right, this is Blaise, as you probably all know…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next will be Christmas, which has two chapters in total. I'm skipping through quite a bit of school life :P Update tomorrow/the day after
> 
> A lot of you guys were succeeding in predicting plots...so try guessing what Harry's Christmas will be like! _Hint: Something is going to happen!_ Even though Harry isn't going to be directly involved...


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas pt1

Last day before Christmas break, Hogwarts snowed. Harry was originally looking to research more about alchemy in the library (ever since he had found out that Nicholas Flamel was known for his achievements in alchemy, Harry had been _exalted_. There’s no way he’s going to miss out a subject like that when he was allowed to choose elective courses, and who said he couldn’t start early?), but both Ron and Draco were persistent in dragging him out in the snow (to think they would ever team up! Against _HIM_!) Hermione, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to come outside. Fred and George enchanted snowballs to hit Professor Quirrell in the head repeatedly, and they luckily dodged a detention since it was last day of school. At some point someone enchanted their snowballs pink, then suddenly all the snowballs flying across the schoolyard were enchanted with different colours. By the end of the day, Harry was wheezing with laughter, covered in red and blue and purple and yellow, and Ron was no better. Draco only smirked and uttered a _Tergeo_ on Harry.

The train ride back to London was about as fun as the journey to Hogwarts on the first day. Harry was excited—well, excited was an understatement. Not that he didn’t like Hogwarts, but finally! He’s going _home_ —which meant sleeping in every day, unlimited time in the lab, archery lessons with Uncle Clint, _Cards Against Humanity_ with Uncle Steve…

As the train pulled into the station, Harry bid goodbye with Hermione and Draco (Ron wasn’t going home for Christmas because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit his older brother). He promised his friends that he would be sending them awesome Christmas presents, then popped down the train before Draco could ask “how the hell are you sending them if you don’t have an owl.” 

Many people had gathered around Platform 9 3/4, some dressed in casual wizard robes, some dressed in very medieval looking dresses. Then Harry saw his own parents, both wearing black suit. Tony had a pair of red-tinged sunglasses, which no doubt had some kind of technology built in, and Loki was holding a new golden staff in his hand. And there was also someone Harry wasn’t expecting…

“Uncle Thor!” Once Harry had secured himself around Tony’s neck, he turned his head and greeted. “When did you come back from Asgard? Are you on a mission? Are you staying for Christmas?”

“Ay.” Thor grinned widely, taking up Harry’s trunk, “I arrived only yesterday. I will stay for the celebration of the birth of Christ—I have prepared the most magnificent gift, fit for you, Prince of Asgard.”

His voice was so loud that several people glanced towards them. Harry did not know what to say.

“Buddy, inside voice, remember?” Tony said, patting Harry’s back, “Alright Mr. Kola. My, you’re getting heavy! Food in Hogwarts’ apparently too tasty for your good. Let’s go home before more people notice us, shall we?”

Loki glared at Thor. “Of course, Anthony.” He said, “I would _love_ to get out of this place before this oaf attracts more attention.” He placed a hand on both of them, and in a blinding green flash, the King’s Cross station changed to the interior of the penthouse.

“Welcome home.” JARVIS’ voice rang through a speaker nearby. Harry waved at the nearest camera: “Hi JARVIS!” He said, sliding down. 

Christmas decor was already up in the penthouse. The walls were all wrapped in red and green ribbons, and from the window Harry could see the red and white and green drawings on the outside (he wondered briefly if Tony had actually decorated the tower himself wearing the Iron Man suit.) A huge bouquet of mistletoe was hanging down from the ceiling (Harry grinned at the thought of his parents kissing under it.)  Then, in the middle of the common area, a huge Christmas tree was in place, and on top of it was a figurine of…Captain America in ballet dress. Harry nearly laughed his head off at the little decoration. Pity he couldn’t use magic at home—oh god, he’s _so_ going to enchant it to dance forever when he got the chance!

“We haven’t touched your room yet. You should be decorating it soon.” Loki said, tilting his head to the corridor leading to their bedrooms. Harry nodded and ran quickly towards his old room, pushed open the door and flopped himself into the comfy couch he had, letting out a soft moan.

“So, kid, how did the big game go?” Tony walked in a moment later, holding a glass of scotch.

At that, Harry actually had to pause and think. The last time he had talked with Dad extendedly was right after Halloween, when he briefly introduced his father to the notion of Quidditch games—which meant that Tony didn't know about the Bludger incidence...he debated whether he should be telling this to Tony. Technically he should, but then, two life-threatening events in less than four months? Possibly a teacher at the school being set on murdering him? Harry was pretty sure that Tony would be furious if he learned about that, then he's going to transfer Harry away from Hogwarts...well, okay then, maybe not.

“Gryffindor didn’t win this round.” He began, “Actually, our Seeker caught the Snitch but Slytherin was already far ahead...”

***

Christmas was as well as Harry could imagine. It was slightly disappointing that Aunt Natasha was still on her mission, and that Uncle Bruce was in India, but Aunt Pepper And Uncle Jim and Aunt Jane and her friends and even Uncle Phil came to the party and Harry was content enough. He dragged his father out of the lab two in the afternoon to help out in the kitchen, until Steve and Clint (who were cooking) had enough and kicked them out. Then they watched movies and ate pop tarts with Uncle Thor, until the turkeys were finished and Aunt Pepper called them up. It was all very domestic, and Harry loved it.

To be fairly honest, Christmas wasn’t a big thing in Harry’s family. He means...first of all, why would a Norse god care about a mortal named Jesus anyways? Harry had always suspected that the only reason his parents insisted on celebrating this holiday was to have a reason for redecorating the house, and maybe an excuse to snog right in front of everyone (which, mind you, they did.) Everyone else just sort of went along with it.

Harry stayed up late that night, and sent his presents out through the teleportation portal as the clock struck twelve. Hermione would be getting a newest StarkPhone which Loki helped enchanted to work in the wizardry world, and Draco a book on the study of the elvish language. He wasn't exactly satisfied with the gift for Ron though—homemade chocolate and all his notes on Potions (well, his friend _was_ failing Potions, so....) Reconsidering things a bit, Harry decided to also send his Cloak of Invisibility to Ron and lend it to him for the duration of the holiday. Technically Harry could just gift it to Ron, since, if he had master illusions skills, why would Harry still need the cloak? But then Dumbledore gave it to him, and it had belonged to the Potter family...oh well.

When Harry woke up on Christmas morning, three piles of gifts were mounted at the end of his bed. 

“Master Harry, good morning. The pile on your right-hand side had all arrived by air or magic.” Which meant...Hogwarts! “Scan completed—no hazardous species detected. The other piles are from the Avengers and your acquaintances; the pile on the far left is directed towards Master Tom. Gifts from other sources are excluded. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Harry said cheerfully, sliding down his bed. He waited until he finished his morning routine to start unwrapping his gifts, starting with those from his Hogwarts friends. Hermione sent him a whole box of chocolate frogs, with a long, handwritten note about healthy life style (Harry thought he should stick this note on his fridge); Ron sent him a tiny model of golden snitch, along with a sweater apparently Mrs. Weasley made (Harry decided to try it on—it fit!); Draco sent him an antique book on alchemy (Wait a sec oh my god is that actually antique how could Draco use an owl—); and, a surprising gift from Mr. Lupin, a book on the magical creatures in the wizardry world (Harry wondered how the man was doing, and felt slightly guilty for not sending him a Christmas present. Well, next time he would...)

The other two pile were all from Harry’s family and family friends, and, as usual, everyone who knew about Tom’s existence prepared two identical gifts. Except for a baggage strangely wrapped in linen, which unwrapped to review a misty black egg-shaped object the size of a fist. Harry blinked at it, trying to remember from all the books he had read what species this egg could possibly belong to...

 _Oh my god is that a dragon egg?!!!_ Harry screamed in his head as he felt the envelope of _seidr_ wrapped around the egg. Only one breed could have black, magical eggs this small.

 _I so envy you._ Tom said in Harry’s mind, but he sounded as excited as Harry felt. 

 _Am I keeping this? How do we hatch this—_ “Dad!” Harry yelled, running out of his room, “Dad, where’s Papa—” he stopped in his track when he saw all the adults sitting around the kitchen table, face grim. Harry knew that only when they’re in really serious problems would the Avengers assemble in the penthouse, which had probably the nation’s best defence and anti-spy systems, rather than the common floor. “What happened?” Harry asked in a small voice, momentarily forgetting about his present.

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Just at that, the elevator door opened and Natasha walked in.

“Fury’s dead.” She jumped right into topic, “We’re on our own now.”

 _Wait_ , _what???_


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> christmas pt2

Over the next three days, Harry learned that the problem with SHIELD was much bigger than someone stealing classified project files. Apparently, an international crime organization that should’ve died seventy years ago wasn’t as dead as it seemed, and that the whole SHIELD was compromised. The agent they caught selling information was just a small fish in the whole damn ocean, and the big, bad shark just made its first move—assassinating Fury.

A Code Blue was called, and Harry was sent to stay with Dr. Strange for the rest of the holiday, while Tony, Steve, and Natasha track down the source of an encrypted flash drive Fury left behind before the assassin got him. Harry didn’t argue—well, he probably should be glad that his parents even thought to debrief him: he was quite sure Aunt Pepper was against this thought—but he also felt concerned and sad. He didn’t know Director Fury very well—not as well as Uncle Phil anyways—but Harry still felt like crying for his death. How can someone just—be gone like _that_? Harry had always imagined deaths like explosions (probably because all the deaths he had heard about/witnessed _were_ like explosions) and the thought of leaving the world so quietly was… _sad_ sounded mild.

“The villains have a theme for Christmas.” Strange mused over Loki’s note that an emergent mission had been issued and all available Avengers were called, “Dormammu was knocking on my doorstep the exact same time last year.”

Harry didn’t bother to point out that the dimension Dormammu came from was supposed to be timeless.

“Harry, cheer up!” Strange said, patting on Harry’s back, just as his Cloak of Levitation touched Harry’s cheek softly, “Now, what about show me what you learned in that—what do you call it, Wizardry school?”

“How can you not be worried?” Harry asked, his brows furrowed. Just thinking about it felt dreadful. “SHIELD is compromised and someone’s going after everyone! Everyone could _die_!”

“As if that hadn’t happened fifty times in the past year?” Strange asked.

Harry just stared at him.

“Um, sorry.” As if just realizing what he had said, Strange hastily tried to amend his statement. “I mean, your parents are well experienced to handle dangerous situations. This one is no worse than last time, or the time before…”

“But in none of those times did _Director Fury_ _die_.”

Now it was Strange’s turn to stare at Harry. “Are you even supposed to know that?” He asked, incredulous.

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. See, that’s why he loved his family so much—at least they take him seriously, and don’t try hiding _everything_ from him.

“Okay. Well.” Strange sighed, “Of course I’m worried—they are also _my_ friends. But worrying won’t do them any good, so let’s do something meaningful.” When Harry opened his mouth, Strange signalled him to pause, “And before you ask, yes, I _am_ keeping tabs on their process.”

It didn’t make Harry less worried, but it did make him feel a little bit better. Strange had a good point—worrying wasn’t going to make anything happen. The world wouldn’t get less dangerous, and Director Fury wouldn’t stop being dead. Harry’s best bet right now…well, study hard so that one day _he_ could fight alongside his parents, perhaps.

“I see you’re on the right track of thoughts,” Strange said as if he was reading Harry’s mind.

Harry paused for a moment before continuing: “If you’re keeping tabs on them, can you save them in time when they’re in danger?”

“I’ll do my best.” Strange said, “If not? I’ll be sure to avenge them.”

That sounded eerily similar to Dad’s description of the Avengers, Harry noted.

“Okay now? Good.” Strange nodded, and in a blink their surroundings changed to his studies, “Now, show me what you have, and we’ll have a pleasant time studying magic while I wait for your parents to—”Suddenly remembering what he had meant to ask Papa about, but was put off for all the trouble going on, Harry pulled the gleaming night-sky coloured egg out of his pocket. Strange almost choked at the sight, and yelled: “ _Is that a fucking dragon egg_ WHO THE HELL WOULD GIVE A _KID_ A DRAGON EGG _—_ ”

Harry went on protesting that, no, he was not a “kid” anymore. He thought he might’ve forgotten to check who the sender of the gift was, but…oh well, honestly, Uncle Thor _was_ always quite out of his mind.

***

As Strange observed, the egg wasn’t going to hatch for at least another few months. When they examined the egg closer, it turned out to match the size of eggs for pygmy dragons, a small-sized breed that wouldn’t grow bigger than a wolf. They were usually less powerful than most other dragons in the Nine Realm, but Harry heard they’re skilled in their own branches of magic as well. This meant that Harry was in no way turning into a dragon rider, but it also meant that Harry would be able to keep it as a large pet in his dorm.

 _We_ ’ _ll get another one when you get a body._ Harry promised Tom.

 _Thanks but no thanks_. Tom said. _I’d rather get something huge. Something I could ride on. Not a Pygmy_ , _even though they’re cool too._

Then, the day before back-to-school day, Director Fury turned up in the sanctum to meet with Strange, not as dead as he should’ve been. Harry had no idea whether he should be more relieved or angry for Fury’s deception, but he guessed it was still a better outcome than if Fury had stayed dead. Then Harry learned about this thing called Project Insight...Harry would like to not imagine the consequences if the project was successfully launched. He heard that his father had been outraged—that HYDRA stole his design and now was setting it targeted at him and his family apparently crossed Tony's line.

Tony and Loki were still busy with SHIELD when time was due for Harry to go to London, so this time, Harry’s journey was accompanied by Strange. Strange, with his sparkling portals, gave Harry the most ridiculously grande entrance he had ever experienced—ending with at least a dozen wizards and witches gaping at them. Strange seemed satisfied with the result. Harry…Harry just wanted to facepalm himself.

 _Ah_ , _drama_ , _plus everyone_ ’ _s attention. Isn_ ’ _t that the wonder of life._ Tom said pleasantly in Harry’s head.

 _I don_ ’ _t even_ _want_ _to know why you would enjoy that kind of attention._ Harry thought as he reached up to hug Strange. Sure, he could endure and ignore them just fine, but enjoying it? And purposefully creating it? That’s a bit too melodramatic for him.

 _Well_ , _Dad does._ Tom pointed out. _So does Papa._

The Cloak of Levitation floated down from Strange’s shoulder and wrapped around Harry affectionately, and Harry smiled at the cloak. “I’ll see you in a few months.” He told the cloak. It wriggled a bit, then brushed pass the little basket Harry was holding in his hand. “Yes, I’ll keep him—or her—safe too.” Harry promised, then paused for a second before adding, “And you’ll keep Uncle Stephen safe for me, right?” The cloak shivered excitedly, which equated to a human nodding fiercely. It floated up and wrapped around Strange real tight, before stretching itself and made a motion of embracing several people. Harry would like to imagine that it was promising to keep everyone in his family safe.

Strange puffed at that. “Fantastic. My cloak listens to you more than it does to me.”

“Because it likes me better?” Harry grinned, then turned his expression serious again, “Uncle Stephen—Dr. Strange, can you please, make sure you still keep an eye on whatever progress the Avengers are making? Please? Anything at all—I would like to know.”

Strange cracked a smile. “Of course.” He said, “I’ll keep an ‘Eye’ on that matter.”

Harry hugged him again, then took his trunk and boarded the train. He watched Strange opened another portal with ease and disappeared into it, then sat back in his seat. He let an illusion wash over himself, making him look different, before gently placing the basket on the seat next to him.


	20. Chapter 20

“Hermione!”

The brown-haired witch turned, eyes scanning the corridor suspiciously. She saw the person calling her—a boy with spiky brown hair and freckled round face. “Here.” He said, waving a hand. Who could that...oh.

She pushed through the people crowding the corridors and slid into the compartment, then carefully locked the door behind him. The boy had sat down on the seat near the window, and there was a strange basket on the seat beside him. Hermione eyed it suspiciously for a moment before concentrating back: “Harry?”

Harry dropped his illusions and flashed her a bright smile. “Sup. It's me. How did—”

“Harry! Oh god you got me worried.” Hermione cut him off and gave him a real tight hug, “Where were you? The owls couldn’t even find you after Christmas. Did you go on Asgard?”

“No.” Harry considered that, “I was on Earth...maybe your owl just got lost? You know, across the ocean and everything. How did your holiday go?”

“Oh, family dinner and all that. It was great.” Hermione waved it off, “What about you?”

Neither “ _A family friend of mine was assassinated but came back to life_ ” nor “ _the top US intelligence agency just got discovered to be compromised and the project they were working on is going to create global disaster if my parents can’t stop them in time_ ” sound promising, so instead Harry held up the little basket. “Look what I got for Christmas present.” He said.

Hermione peered into the basket and blinked slowly at the deep blue-black egg. “Are you planning to raise an owl from fledgling?” She asked, “Well, that’s certainly going to take work...”

“No! I mean, not an owl.” Harry said, “Why would I get an owl egg for Christmas anyways?? It’s a dragon.”

“A dra—” Hermione cur herself off. Silence momentarily fell in the compartment, before she freaked out and lost her voice: “A DRAGON! Harry Stark-Lokason, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

Harry almost jumped at the sheer volume of Hermione’s scream—he was infinitely glad that there was a quieting charm placed on every compartment, or else everyone in the whole United Kingdom would hear her shriek. “Hermione, you’re killing my eardrum!” He hissed as he placed the basket on the seat again, “I know, for a fact, that the wizardry world also have dragons! Do you _have to_ react like that?”

“But it’s _illegal_!” Hermione said even more fiercely, “The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is going to—”

“Alright.” Harry said calmly, “What about let’s agree ‘it’s not a dragon,’ as in, dragon by whatever definition dragons have?”

“It’s not a—” Hermione cut herself off again. She stared at him and swallowed. “It’s—whatever it is—from another realm, right?”

“Yup.”

Hermione took a while to process that information. “I don’t know about the Ministry’s classification of inter-realm species.” She admitted, “But if your parents said yes...”She trailed off.

“Um.” Harry blinked, “Actually, they don’t know yet...”

“WHAT?!”

Harry rubbed his ears. “Well, they went on an emergency mission and I had to go stay with Dr. Strange for the second half of the holiday. So Uncle Stephen knows, but not my parents. Yet.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Gone out to save the world again?”

 _Quite literally_. Tom mused. 

“Classified.” Harry made a face. 

Hermione nodded, accepting the not-explanation. Harry sighed mentally—his friends all have absolutely no idea what kind of danger the world is in, and what kind of risk his parents are taking…it suddenly made him feel lonely.

He pushed aside that weird sentiment a second later, then pointed at the basket again: “But _this_ is not going to be dangerous. It’s a pygmy egg—they would grow to the size of a big cat, and I know there are people in our school with huge cats as pets. Besides, it’s not a Ministry classifies dragon—and I already made a promise to take care of it.”

Hermione’s expression twisted between disapproval and interest. Harry held his breath and waited for her to make a decision.

 _Really, you should’ve bribed her with the cultural and practical benefit of having a extraterrestrial specie within her reach. Think about it—isn’t that the kind of thing she’s excited about?_ Tom said _. Oh well, you didn’t think of it at all, did you?_

Harry had to admit that, no, he did not.

“Well, Harry, I’m not going to encourage you to break school rules...” Hermione starter, very slowly, “If something gets out of control...”

“I’ll send it straight back to Uncle Stephen.” Harry promised, “Then he’ll help me take care of it.”

Hermione sighed, clearly knowing there would be no use arguing here. “I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” She said, closing her eyes, “Don’t say anything. Just let me think for a moment.”

Harry obeyed, keeping silent.

A few minutes later, Hermione opened her eyes again and sat down beside Harry, peering curiously at the egg. “Aren’t you supposed to be placing it in a really warm place to hatch it?” She asked, “I remember reading about it—all with mother dragons breathing fire on the egg and whatnot.”

Harry shook his head. “Different species of dragons behave differently. Not all of them breath fire either. I can’t be sure of this one before it hatches—everyone who should know went with the mission before I had a chance to ask, then Uncle Stephen’s not all that familiar with creatures from other realms..” He said, recalling all the books he had read on the different kind of dragons across the Nine Realm, “Some dragons live in a clan, some live on their own. Pygmies are quite independent—the parents don’t typically care for their eggs that much, and right after birth they can survive on their own. Provided they don’t get eaten by anything. So I don’t need to lock myself in my room just to take care of it, you know?”

“It’d just hatch? You don’t need to do anything?”

“It needs an environment that is filled with _seidr_ —I mean, magic.” Harry said, gesturing the basket, “That’s what this nest is for, Uncle Stephen enchanted it for me.”

“Alright. That sounds cool. I still want to check out more about safely raising dragons...” Hermione mumbled something about “libraries” to herself, then as if suddenly remembering something, she said: “Oh and by the way, Harry, thank you so much for the Christmas gift! Being able to call home every few weeks is really important to me.”

“Then it’s serving the function it’s designed for.” Harry beamed at her.

“And your number?” She asked.

“What?”

“You have a phone, I have a phone, of course I would need your number!” Hermione said, then upon Harry’s blank expression she explained, “That’s probably the only way we can contact each other instantly in long distance since we don’t have a Patronus yet.”

“Patronus?” Harry echoed as he sketched down Hermione’s number. He texted her a smiley face, and she instantly replied with a thumbs up emoji. “What’s a Patronus? I’ve never heard of it before.”

Hermione looked up from her phone. When she saw Harry’s genuinely confused expression, she quickly stuffed her phone away and pulled a huge book out of her bag. “I think you have some reading to do.” She said solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters tomorrow :D
> 
> I will be traveling during spring break and I don't know if I'd be able to update in the hotel. I'll try to...but no promise...


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirror of Erised Pt1

Harry didn’t find Draco on the train, nor did he find Draco at the station. But he also didn’t see at least half of the Slytherin that went home for Christmas. “They probably have some special way of getting back here.” Hermione shrugged at Harry’s inquiry, “I mean, I don’t know that much about the traditions of Slytherins, but most of them _are_ nobles, and they probably have a lot of privilege.”

Harry nodded, thinking that’s very possible. Well, he _could_ have ask Strange to just teleport him straight into the common room too, like Dad and Papa did during Halloween...

Ron was waiting for them at the entrance hall. He rushed up to Harry the second he spotted the boy: “Harry! Mate, you give the absolute best Christmas present!”

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Harry grinned.

“What did you give him?” Hermione asked curiously.

“My Potions note.” Harry paused, searching on Ron’s face, “Or are you talking about the Cloak of Invisibility that I lent you?”

“The cloak of course! I mean, thanks for saving me from a P in Potions, but the cloak is so awesome!” Ron exclaimed, “I went around the castle last night and no one caught me!”

“You did WHAT and Harry you lent him WHAT.”

“’Mione, calm down.” Harry hissed, “I don’t want everybody to know that I have a Cloak of Invisibility!”

Hermione took a deep breath. “From Asgard too?” She guessed.

“No, actually, from Dumbledore. He said it belongs to the Potter family.” Harry explained as he ushered his friends towards the Gryffindor tower, “Come on, guys. Ron, I want to show you something.”

“What? Really? I need to show you something too!” Ron said, excited, “I found an abandoned classroom with something really cool inside—mate, just leave your trunk here and let’s go before dinner! A house elf will pick it up.” He complained, “Why didn’t you guys leave it on the train?”

“House elf?” Hermione echoed just as Harry replied, “Can’t. I need to settle this in the dorm ASAP, and absolutely not through some other person’s hands.”

“What is ‘this’?” Ron asked curiously. 

Harry showed him the egg: “My familiar.” He said, “Got it for Christmas.”

Ron peered at it. “Bird? Turtle? _Snake?_ What kind of animal have black eggs?”

“It’s a dragon.” Hermione corrected, “From another realm.”

Ron jumped and almost fell down the stairs. A ghost—Bloody Baron, Harry recognized—wheeled out of nowhere and glanced at them with glassy eyes. “Careful.” He said, then floated away.

Ron didn’t even seem to notice the ghost. “Wait, are you serious? A dragon?! How—but no dragon have eggs that small!”

“It’s a pygmy.” Harry said, as if it explained all. Ron just stared at him blankly, and Harry suggested: “Extraterrestrial species?”

Ron didn’t need to go through anything Hermione did to accept having a dragon in the school—he dived straight into excitement. “Cool. That sounds awesome.” He said, “How do you hatch it? Would you need to sit on it like a mother hen do?”

Hermione stared at him wearily. “How can you say something like _that_?! Isn’t your brother Charlie studying dragon in Romania? You don’t even know how to _properly_ hatch a dragon?!”

“Hey!” Ron’s face flushed red, “Studying dragons doesn’t equal to _hatching_ dragons! Why on earth would I know anyways?”

“Obviously you don’t read enough books.” Hermione went on, “It says in _Ten Ways of Training Dragons_ that dragon eggs—dragons as in Ministry classified species—are to be put in fireplaces, since mother dragons breath fire on their eggs to hatch them.”

“Then why in Merlin’s name are _you_ reading up about _that_?”

“Because that’s what I do with all my spare time.” Hermione said sharply, “But anyways, Harry’s doesn’t, because it’s not a normal dragon from Earth. What are you going to name it?” She asked as the three of them approached the portrait of Fat Lady.

“Er.” Harry looked down at the nest. He hasn’t really thought about it…“Dreki.” It literally meant “dragon” in Old Norse, which was the Earth language closest to Aesir language. Well, it would certainly fit.

 _You_ ’ _re_ _so_ _creative._ Tom said drily.

Agreeing to meet back in common room in five minutes, Harry and Ron took off to their dorm. Harry checked his phone again—neither Dad nor Uncle Stephen had texted him. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and placed the basket on his pillow, before being dragged away by a very excited Ron. Hermione was already waiting for them in the common room, and Ron took both their sleeves and started towards the door out of the common room.

“Hey hey, stop pulling my sleeves.” Harry said, “Where are you taking us?”

“I’ll show you,” Ron said mysteriously. Hermione made a sound in the back of her throat, interested. Ron lead them through some very complicated turns, and soon Harry stopped recognizing their surroundings. It looked like they continued walking upwards, climbing some stairs and diving deeper and deeper into the castle. There were no portraits hung around the corridor anymore, and the candles lighting the hall began to dim after a while.

“Ron—are you sure it’s a good idea—do you still know where we’re going?” Hermione asked after ten minutes of walking, “It’s freezing.”

“We’re almost there,” Ron promised.

They passed a tall suit of armour, and Ron turned and pushed open the door of a classroom directly to its left. “Ta-da.” He said, pointing into the room, “We’re here.”

 _A disused classroom?_ Tom asked curiously. _What is getting him_ _that_ _excited?_

Harry walked in. It was indeed a disused classroom, with desks and chairs piled against the walls. But what caught Harry’s eyes was not the chairs or desks or shaded window. It was a huge mirror, at least two and a half Harry tall, with ornated gold frame. Harry walked closer and squinted to see the carved tunes on the top of it—“ _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ ”

“What is this?” Hermione asked, looking at the mirror. 

“This mirror shows the future!” Ron beamed proudly, pointing at the mirror, “Look at me! I’m the Head Boy, and I’m holding the House Cup, and Quidditch Cup—”

Hermione blinked at the mirror from Ron’s side. “I only see you—normal you. Are you sure you’re not imagining things?”

“Look in it properly! Go on, stand where I am.” Ron said and pulled Hermione towards him. 

Hermione went still as she fixed her eyes on the mirror image. “Oh.” She said.

“Do you see me?” Ron asked excitedly.

“No.” She said slowly. “I see myself, here, in this classroom, holding my wand...and a lot of books with my names on them. And people standing around me, but their faces are blurry. I look a bit like Professor McGonagall, with the robe and hat.”

Ron considered this. “So you’ll become a professor at Hogwarts with a lot of books! That’s cool.” He said, “But you don’t see me? You still don’t see me?”

“No.” Hermione answered, looking away from the mirror, “I wonder what this mirror really does...”

“Tell the future! Of course!” Ron said excitedly, “Move ’side, Hermione, let me have another look.”

Instead of stepping aside, Hermione turned and asked: “What about Harry? You’re being very quiet right now.” 

Harry pointed at the runes. He had been studying them while Ron and Hermione argued, even though he couldn’t really make sense of the letters either: “What do you suppose those mean?”

“Gibberish?”Ron said, “Mate, that hardly matters. All ancient artifacts have weird runes and whatnots carved on them, sometime to strengthen their ability. I’m not planning to take Studies of Ancient Runes anyways.” 

“They look English enough.” Hermione mumbled.

“Hey, if you’re not going to look then move aside, I want to see myself again,” Ron said. Hermione elbowed him, annoyed, even though she really wasn’t looking at the mirror.

 _I show not your face but your heart’s desire._ Tom piped up.

“What?” Harry asked aloud.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him.

 _You have learned nothing from all the code games we played, have you?_ Tom said sarcastically. _Read it backwards._

Harry’s eyes traced the letters, and suddenly the words made sense. Tom was right. “It’s written backwards.” He told his friends, “The carving says ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire.’”

Ron stretched his neck to see the top of the mirror. “Really?” He sounded dismayed, “It doesn’t show the future?”

Hermione’s brain caught up with her a lot quicker. “That’s so clever!” She exclaimed, fumbling in her pocket for a piece of paper, “I need to do some research on that.” She said, “So according to this rune, which sounds like the instruction menu of the mirror, it shows our deepest desire, right? How does that even work? Does it read our mind? Ron wants to become the Head Boy and Quidditch Captain and win basically everything, and I want to...” Her sentence cut off there, and a pink blush started crawling it’s way up her cheek, “Um.”

Harry guessed it _was_ a bit embarrassing to reveal your deepest desire as becoming a person like Professor McGonagall in front of your fellow classmates.

“Harry, come over here. You haven’t looked yet.” Ron suddenly said, resuming his interest, “What do you see?”

Harry stepped up. For a second he only saw himself in the mirror, staring back...then the surface of the mirror fogged up, and Harry’s eyes widened.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirror of Erised Pt2

It was like watching a movie clip. As far as Harry could tell, the background of the image was the vast universe, with twinkling stars full of eternal mysteries. A spaceship? Harry blinked. It looked like the mirage-him was standing on a spaceship, sailing in the void. The mirage-him was surrounded by his family too—no, wait, not just his family. The whole team and Uncle Phil and Aunt Pepper and Grandpa Odin and...everyone was in the mirror, and Harry saw with a surprise that even Hermione and Ron and Draco were there as well. One person caught Harry’s attention—a tall, dark-haired boy standing beside mirage-him…who is that? He didn’t recognize the face. Everyone looked young and fresh and were beaming brightly at him, and Harry noticed that they were all dressed in battle suits. The mirage-Harry himself was dressed in black, wizard robe, holding a wand with a glowing tip. He stepped out of line, leaving the rest of the crowd in the background. What is he doing? Harry wondered. The mirage-him smiled at Harry encouragingly, his eyes uncomfortably intelligent, and held his hand, as if inviting Harry inside to another world. Startled, Harry reached a hand out towards the mirror...

“Harry? Harry? You there?” Someone yelled right in his ears. As if his brain was suddenly cleared of some mysterious mist, Harry winced, and reality came flashing back to him. When he looked up again, the mirage-him had gone back to standing with the crowd, smiling like a moving, magical image should, the glimpse of intelligence gone. Harry slowly breathed out.

Spaceship. Family. Exploration. Is that what he wants? But why did mirage-him do that? Something in Harry told him that it would result in total disaster...but what _was_ that?

“Harry, what did you see?” On his right, Hermione asked anxiously, “This mirror isn’t some kind of artifact of dark-magic, right? Oh god, desires and stuff, it totally could be—Harry, you need to wake up and...”

“I’m fine. I’m—what did I do?” Harry tore his eyes away from the mirror and asked.

“You looked like you’re going to faint.” Ron said, looking worried, “We called you but you didn’t hear us. Then you reached out and I thought I might have seen you turning a bit transparent...”

Hermione let out a distressed sound, and forcefully pulled Harry away from the mirror. “We better go see Madame Pomfrey.” She said, “In case there’s some after effect messing with your brain or something. What did you see?”

“I...” Harry opened his mouth, but a sharp voice cut him off. _Don’t_. Tom said—hissed.

 _What? Why?_ Harry asked.

_If this mirror is actually that powerful an artifact, do you think it’d ever be wise to reveal your deepest desire to someone who might betray you one day?_

_But they told me theirs as well!_ Harry protested. _And they won’t betray me! We are_ _friends_ _!_

 _Then how do you know there’s no one else listening in here?_ Tom countered. _Someone who might one day use your desire against you? Someone you couldn’t trust? What’s the chance of such an artifact lying around in the school without someone supervising it?_

That was a good point. Harry couldn’t be sure if someone is listening in on them—especially if it’s through a spell. But then he probably should trust nowhere to be safe, except in the penthouse with Papa’s magic shrouding them. Before that, however, there’s something else...

 _Did you see what I saw?_ He asked Tom. _Come on, at least you can tell_ _me_ _. You’re in my head. Nowhere safer than that._

Tom was silent for a few seconds. _I saw me—with a body._ He said. _I didn’t know that’s what I want to look like though. And there’s our family, and we’re on the top of the worlds._

Harry made a mental note that apparently the mirror affects the soul, not the body, since _they_ had different experiences, and recounted his experience with Tom. As he was finishing up, Harry felt someone pinching his arm. He snapped back into the reality and saw Hermione looking at him worriedly. Again. “Sorry, spaced out a bit.” He said.

“You were not responding to our calls!” Hermione said, her brows knitted into a deep frown, “We need to ask some professors to get rid of this mirror here!”

“Hey, hey, there’s nothing wrong with the mirror!” Harry protested.

“I agree with Hermione this time.” Ron said, “You were _entranced_.”

Harry opened his mouth, then remembered that he couldn’t really explain to his friends that he was talking to Tom, not being entranced. Hermione stared at him sternly.

“Harry, we’re going to Madame Pomfrey. Now.”

“There is no need to, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore’s voice suddenly said from behind them all. Harry whirled around, heart suddenly pounding hard. 

And there sat the old wizard, on a desk in the corner of the classroom, dressed in his usual starry-night robe, eyes gleaming under the half-moon shaped glasses. Dumbledore slid down the desk as all three of them stared at him, wide-eyed. “It’s a remarkable feat, I must say, that you recognized the true meaning of the Mirror of Erised so quickly. Fifty points to Gryffindor for your wisdom in deciphering the code, Harry.”

Ron sucked in a breath.

Hermione was, on the other hand, letting nothing go. “Professor, is this mirror a dark artifact?” She asked anxiously, “Why is it in the school? Are you sure Harry doesn’t need to go to the Hospital Wing?”

“There will be no need, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore answered, “You see, how wizards today classify ‘dark’ artifacts from ‘light’ artifacts is vastly arbitrary. This mirror has indeed driven many mad, but it was never created to be ‘dark.’ I do, however, not recommend you to come here again. Certainly not with more friends.”

Ron’s face turned as red as his hair at that. Harry dreaded to imagine how Dumbledore might be in the room each time Ron visited during Christmas, then wondered if Dumbledore would get mad at him for lending the cloak to Ron. But all in all...

 _You’re right_. He thought to Tom. _There_ _is_ _someone supervising this place._

Tom didn’t respond. But then he also seemed to have a special distaste for Dumbledore, so Harry wasn’t surprised at his silence.

“Either way, the mirror will be moved to a safe location for the future, far outside the reach of students. I hope this solution addresses your concern, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore continued, “Ah, I see you all have questions. Ask away.”

“Sir, is Harry going to be okay?” Ron blurted, “He looked like he _was_ going mad when he was in front of the mirror...”

“Your concern over your friends is greatly appreciated, Mr. Weasley.” Dumbledore answered, glancing at Harry, “But I believe that Harry will be fine. Maybe with a good night’s sleep.” He turned to Hermione, “Now, Miss Granger, I believe you also have question, about, ah, the mirror’s nature?”

Hermione blinked slowly. “I want to read more about it, Professor. Alchemy sounds very intriguing.” She said, “Can you please recommend some books for me?”

Dumbledore smiled—with that Mona Lisa smile again. “As a matter of fact, there is no record of the creation of the Mirror of Erised in the wizardry world. However, there are quite a few books in the Restricted Section that mentions uses of this artifact. I will prepare a slip for you, Miss Granger, if that satisfies your need?”

Hermione beamed and said “Thank you, Professor” loudly and clearly. 

“And you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry wanted to ask about how the mirage-him had that weird intelligent gaze, but he rethought before words could leave his mouth. Does he _really_ trust Dumbledore? Instead, Harry found himself asking: “Professor, how can we make another Philosopher’s Stone?”

Tom hissed in Harry’s head: _You know, as far as keeping secrets go, you’re the worst._

Dumbledore stared at Harry with a fascinated expression. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “I suppose it wouldn’t yield any result to ask you where you heard about the Stone in the first place?”

Harry blushed. "We were researching Nicholas Flamel." He told Dumbledore, "and I want to study alchemy and we found the book on philosopher's stone. We also found at least three different recipes from different books on how to make a philosopher's stone, but I suspect they're all fakes..."

“The answer is that the Stone is not replicable, Harry, and its production method is undecipherable.” Dumbledore said solemnly, “That’s precisely why it’s so sought after and therefore needs to be protected. As you know, Hogwarts is a very strong fort for protecting…and hiding things.” Harry thought he might’ve seen Dumbledore winking at that, “Now, enough question. It’s time for dinner.” He said, signaling the end of the conversation. One by one Harry, Ron and Hermione bid Dumbledore goodbye, and before he left, Harry turned around and asked one last question: “Sir, may I ask what you saw in the mirror?”

Dumbledore broke into a wide grin. “Why, woollen socks.” He said cheerfully, “One can never get enough socks, and everyone insists on sending me books for Christmas.”

Now there was no way this was true. But Harry made a mental note for sending Dumbledore a pair of socks for the next Christmas anyways. 

When they were far enough gone from the classroom, Ron spoke up again. “Mate, why did you mention the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Harry shrugged. “That’s something on my mind lately.” And that’s true too. It was a wonder how the Philosopher’s Stone could produce a thing called Elixir of Life, a mortal equivalent to Idunn’s golden apples. Harry had always been dubious about how such an object can even possibly be made. “Besides, it sounds more innocent than a questions like ‘does another world exist in the mirror’ or ‘why do I keep seeing the mirage-me inviting me to step inside.’”

“ _What_. Do you mean by that.” Hermione asked in a very flat tone.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Harry made a face. He thought over what Dumbledore had said about the Philosopher’s Stone, and frowned at the essence of information he could condense out of the conversation. Dumbledore had said that the Philosopher’s Stone was irreplicable, its method of production undecipherable…then how was it produced in the first place? Wasn’t Flamel still alive? Then the “needs to be hidden” part and Hogwarts…was Dumbledore hinting something? Harry thought about where he learned the name “Nicholas Flamel” in the first place, then back to the maze Tony had intruded. Is that where the Stone was—would be—kept? That didn’t sound so safe, he thought, if Tony could get through in there. Besides, why would someone build a maze to protect things anyways? It would be much safer to lock it into a vault and throw away the key.

The three walked into the Great Hall. Ron moaned “I’m starving right now” and made a beeline for the Gryffindor table. Harry and Hermione followed him. Harry decided to put all the mirror and stone topic off his mind for a little…at least for the sake of enjoying dinner. 

And he had to admit that, Hogwarts _did_ have better food than Dr. Strange’s sanctum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what Harry would see in the mirror when he has a happy childhood...so I made it up :3


	23. Chapter 23

January went by peacefully. Well, not so peaceful when Draco discovered that he had missed the last chance to see an ancient artifact and found out about Harry keeping an extraterrestrial dragon egg. Harry thought his ears might had died again. It was peaceful in the sense that, no one tried to kill him, no one died, and no one had succeeded in taking over the world yet. Tony texted him (finally!) at the end of January and tole Harry that, good news, HYDRA’s supposedly wiped out from the government agencies now and, bad news, SHIELD was completely dissembled and HYDRA somehow got Loki’s sceptre. The one with an infinity stone on top. Yep. Now that’s gonna be a pain in the ass to clean up. 

Neither Quirrell nor Snape had made a move since Christmas, though both had been spotted near the third floor corridor. Ron had the idea that maybe Professor Snape was going to invite Professor Quirrell for a duel of death in that secret maze. Harry and Hermione (and Draco) were not amused. As time passed and nothing happened, however, even Ron stopped talking about Snape being all-evil, and went back to complaining about the crazy homework and harsh standard of Potions class.

Valentine’s Day came and went—Harry neither gave nor received any presents. He found himself a little bit too young for that, even though Dad had proudly claimed that he had had his first girlfriend when he was ten. Then Tony sent Harry a picture of him kissing Loki and dared him to send one back and…Harry totally did not blush. Asking Hermione to pretend was very cringing and Ron...Ron just won’t do. None of the other schoolmates was that close to Harry, and he deliberately put off the thought of kissing Draco. Somehow his brain just refused to process anything in that direction.

That became the first dare Harry willingly gave up upon this year. Tony said he was keeping count.

March came, and Harry’s Pygmy egg finally started cracking. Even in Asgard, few people had had the chance to observe a dragon hatch (to think Uncle Thor even managed to find a dragon egg for him, it was a wonder) but Harry knew so much as to not help when they hatch. Helping’s not always helpful, after all.

Hermione was even more nervous than Harry. One day she picked up a huge pile of book on dragon breeding and ordered Harry to read every single one of them, and the other day she agitated over purchasing chicken blood and brandy to feed Dreki. Even though Harry had repeatedly told her that, no, pygmies aren’t known to eat blood and flesh. 

“I can’t _believe_ all the books on dragon breeding are gone today! I can’t even find _Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_!” Hermione said one day as she sat down heavily beside Harry, taking out her Herbology textbook.

“It’s April Fool’s Day.” Ron said, nibbling away at a piece of pancake, “Maybe Madame Pince’s just messing with you.”

Hermione glared at him. “She is _not_ and you _will_ stop talking about April Fools. It’s enough to have Fred and George trying to charm my cloak neon pink.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Madame Pince said _Hagrid_ borrowed them all!”

“Who’s Hagrid?” Harry asked.

“He’s the gamekeeper of Hogwarts.” Ron answered, “What’s he doing with all the books?”

“Ugh, I need to go find him and ask if I can read some of the books.” Hermione said, sounding distressed, “Hopefully he still remembers me—he was the teacher that picked me up back in the summer.” She explained to Ron and Harry’s questioning glances.

“Stop stressing!” Ron complained, “Harry already said it’s all going to be fine and you’re only making everyone more nervous!”

Harry was focused on something else. “Gamekeeper?” He asked, interested, “There’s hunting ground in Hogwarts?”

“Er, for centaurs, I guess.” Ron said, “I think he’s in charge of the Forbidden Forest, or something like that. My Mom said that’s what Ogg—he’s the head gamekeeper back then—did.”

“Alright.” Harry said, slightly disappointed. He had always enjoyed hunting in Asgard, and thought maybe—if there was a chance—he could also hunt here. Even the National Parks in the States didn’t contain much prey—never mind that people weren’t supposed to be allowed to hunt in there anyways.

“Ron, _you_ are coming with me to Hagrid’s.” Hermione said determinedly, “Maybe Hagrid would know extra about dragons if he is skilled at taking care of magical creatures.”

Ron groaned, but he knew there was no defying Hermione when she’s in such a crazy state. Then Hermione turned to Harry: “ _You_ go back to your dorm and check on Dreki. I’m already worrying that it’s going to hatch when we’re in class, then we’ll get into big trouble. Someone can get hurt.”

“We won’t.” Harry reassured Hermione, “My _seidr_ will let me know when it is, then I’ll just tell the Professor I’m going to the washroom and sneak back.”

Hermione looked extremely frustrated with all the rule breaking that she was consciously participating in.

“Besides…” Harry was going to remind her again about how pygmies _don’t_ eat meat and even less _human_ meat when Professor Sprout cleared her throat. Harry looked up, and saw the short woman staring at him pointedly. “Mr. Stark-Lokason, maybe you can answer this question. What are Devil’s Snares afraid of?”

Harry tried to think back to what he just read half an hour ago, but his mouth reacted faster than his brain. “Me.” He said.

 _Oh god_. Tom moaned. _I can’t_ _believe_ _I’m living in your head. Your brain-mouth filter is as bad as Dad’s._

A few people in the classroom giggled. Professor Sprout’s lips curled up a bit before she reinstalled her stern look. “That’s very creative, Mr. Stark-Lokason. While I’m intended to believe that’ll actually be the case, I would like you to provide more exact answers. When confronted by a Devil’s Snare plant, what do you do?”

Neville, who was sitting in front of Harry, turned slightly and whispered “fire” to Harry.

“It’s, er, fire.” Harry repeated, brain spinning real fast to expand on that hint and finally remembering what he had read from the textbook, “Because Devil’s Snare likes to live in dark places. _Incendio_ would do.” 

“Very well, Mr. Stark-Lokason.” Professor Sprout said, “One point to Gryffindor.” Then she went on talking about ten medical uses of Devil’s Snare. Hermione fumbled in her backpack for a piece of parchment and began jotting down notes fiercely, ranting under her breath that she couldn’t believe she missed half the class talking to Ron and Harry. Ron started doodling on his note page.

Harry patted Neville on the shoulder. “Thanks.” He said.

Neville smiled back timidly.

Hermione dragged Ron away once Herbology ended, but refused to take Harry along with them. Instead, she demanded him to go back and check on Dreki again. Really, Harry saw no point in checking on it so repeatedly, but he turned around obediently, sparing his ear another lecture from Hermione.

He was almost back to the common room when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm. Harry’s eyes momentarily widened due to shock before his instinct kicked in. He spun around quickly, out of the hand’s reach, and washed an illusion over himself. When he looked up again his hands were ready in the position to fire his wrist-missile as metal extended from his bracelet and covered his right hand.

Draco was standing in front of him, frozen in action. As they locked eyes, the blond boy’s eye brows shot into his hairline. Harry’s face turned red before he hastily put away his gloves. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“Nice...defence instinct.” Draco commented, seemingly amused. A portrait on the side of the corridor made a chuckling sound, and Draco quickly pulled Harry away. “There’s something you should know.” He said quietly.

“Okay.” Harry blinked. It must be quite important if Draco decided to catch him in the _Gryffindor Tower_ during morning break instead of in the Great Hall at lunch. “Go ahead.”

“The gamekeeper of Hogwarts, Hagrid.” Draco started. Harry “huh”ed, wondering briefly why everyone was suddenly talking about this guy. “Someone spotted that half-giant winning a dragon egg from Hogsmeade last night. There might be a dragon-hunt coming up.”

“Wait.” Harry blinked, “What?”

“I said the ga—”

“I heard what you said.” Harry interrupted, his brain slowly wrapping around what he just heard. So that’s why all the dragon breeding books Hermione was looking for were gone—it totally made sense now. “Who spread the word first? How many people know? What’s a dragon-hunt?? And what is with half-giants?”

“I just heard about it too.” Draco said impatiently, “I’ll find out who saw it first if you need, but at least half the Slytherin know already. I don’t think my housemates are likely to keep silent. That half-giant will be gone, thrown to jail, soon enough, but—you’ll need to be careful, Harry! If someone from the Ministry comes and search the school for more illegal magical creatures and _you_ get discovered—”

“Em, but Dreki really isn’t a dragon.” Harry said, then winced when Draco shot him a glare. “Alright, alright, I’ll make sure to send Dreki somewhere safe before _that_ happens. So what do we do about Hagrid?” He asked, mind already racing. From what he had heard, the consequences of being found possessing a dragon was quite catastrophic. Even though he had never met Hagrid before Harry didn’t want something quite that horrible happening to the man.

“What do we do?” Draco repeated.

“Yea, isn’t that what you’re here for? Make sure the Ministry does not find out about that dragon he’s keeping?”

“I told you it’s impossible!” Draco exclaimed, “Someone’s bound to tell a professor, now or later, or even owl the Ministry directly. The Ministry _is_ going to find out.”

“You just said that. Hagrid won the egg last night. If we convince him to tell Dumbledore before everyone else run and inform the Ministry, he can use the excuse that he didn’t know it was an actual _dragon egg_ he won. Then he won’t get thrown to jail.”

“ _Why_ would I care if that servant’s thr—whatever.” Draco sighed when he saw Harry’s disapproving expression, “Whatever you want, Harry. I just don’t want to see your Dreki caught. You have no idea how pleased I was when I found out you named him after me.”

“I did not!” Harry protested, “It’s Old Norse meaning dragon!”

“Maybe you should study some Latin, then you’ll know that’s precisely what my name means as well.”

Harry puffed. _Well, wasn’t expecting_ _that_ _._ “Can you find out who started the rumour?” He asked.

Draco straightening up again. “Sure. Of course. Just remember you owe me another one.” He said before turning away to leave, “I’ll come find you again tonight. And bring Dreki, will you? I’ll be visiting him. See you in Potions.”

Harry’s pretty sure he had owed Draco about a hundred from since the school year started, and honestly, one more doesn’t change anything.

***

Harry decided to sprint down and catch Hermione and Ron before next class starts, and he reached the Great Hall the same time Hermione came running in. Once she spotted him, she hurried up and said in a tiny, urgent voice: “Harry, Hagrid is keeping a Norwegian Ridgeback in his hut!”

“I know.” Harry said calmly.

“ _What?_ ”

“So does half the Slytherin, according to Draco.” Harry said, “We need to convince Hagrid to turn the egg in to Dumbledore or he’ll get thrown to jail for possessing it.”

“ _WHAT_.”

“I know.” Harry said again, leading her out of the castle, “And we need to do it before someone alerts the Ministry of Magic—something like that. If Hagrid rush to Dumbledore looking frightened because the, um, Gliding Winged Falcon egg he thought he won when he was drunk turned out to be a dragon egg, the blame would no longer be on Hagrid.”

 _That’s actually one of the most realistic PR story I’ve ever heard_ , Tom mused.

 _Happy April Fools Day._ Harry said flippantly.

“That…that might actually work.” Hermione said slowly, then jumped to life as she decided to follow the plan, “Come on then, we need to finish this before Potions starts. Ron’s still down at Hagrid’s. Ugh, those rock cakes are _killing_ my teeth.”

Hermione continued talking as she jogged down towards the forest: “Hagrid’s nut to plan to _keep and hatch_ this dragon. It’s a Norwegian Ridgeback, for god’s sake! It’s a _carnivorous_ animal that is _known_ to _hurt_ humans! And they’d grow bigger than his hut in less than a week after hatching. It’s…it’s like, the complete opposite of Dreki.”

Harry made an unintelligible sound.

“But I’m not surprised either.” She said, “Remember third floor corridor? He just told me that there is a vicious, _three-headed dog_ behind the first door, that it’s his and that he named it _Fluffy_. _Can you believe that?!_ ”

“Wait, that maze?” Harry asked, startled by the sudden mention of that piece of information. Memories of Tony telling him about that fun game centre, of Flamel and the Stone, then Dumbledore very unsubtle hint all came flowing back to him—he had put everything behind his mind in favour of Dreki and schoolwork for the past few months. 

“Apparently.” Hermione said, furrowing her brow. “Hagrid was talking about that bet and he said the person with the egg was curious about Fluffy, and then told me that the only way to get pass it is to play music to it. Really, it’s not smart to throw around cheats for getting pass a maze if you don’t want people to pass...wait.” She paused for a second before shaking her head and resuming walking. “Never mind. It’s probably just me being too skeptical.”

But Harry could guess what Hermione was thinking about as well. Why would a random person, with of all things a freaking _dragon egg_ , ask _specifically_ for information about this Fluffy? It seemed too big a coincidence to be true, but then...there wasn’t anything important at the end of the maze either, right? So why would anyone want to get in?

Harry’s memories about the mirror and the stone and the name Flamel surfaced again, and he started to have an bad feeling. But before all...

“How did my father get through the maze then?” He asked incredulously as they approached the little hut bear a huge pumpkin patch, “He _sang_ to the dog?” Of course Tony could also be playing music from his suit speaker, but Harry doubted “Shoot to Thrill” could calm _anything_ down.

“Oh, I’m sure you can just brute force in as well. It’s Iron Man versus a _dog_. I’m placing my bet on Iron Man.” Hermione said absentmindedly, “Alright, we’re here. Let’s get this over with.”


	24. Chapter 24

“ _Can you believe that?!_ Snape gave us _detention_ and _fifty point deduction each_ just because we were ten minutes late for class! And he knows perfectly well what we were doing!”

Draco was looking at the Harry with pity. “At least that serv—er, I mean, gamekeeper of yours is saved. I thought that’s a result you want?” 

“But _detention_! And _a hundred and fifty_ points!” Harry waved his hands around, “Not that I regret helping Hagrid—well I’m actually quite glad I did since it was such a close call, but still! _Detention_! _A hundred_ and goddamn _fifty_ points! For being _ten minutes_ late to class!”

Draco said soothingly, in an attempt to save Harry’s mood, “Actually you didn’t get any point off, since Professor Dumbledore awarded you each fifty points.” He left some words unsaid: _the reason Professor Snape gave you guys detention really was_ _not_ _for being ten minutes late for class. It was for running into the classroom and breaking a jar of obviously very precious material on the shelf—of_ _course_ _he’s mad for_ _that_ _._

“Only _ten_ minutes!” Harry sat down on the bench heavily, puffing out air, “I suppose complaining wouldn’t quite help.”

“It wouldn’t.” Draco agreed, poking at the little egg in the basket, “Keep calm.”

Harry sighed. “Keep calm and hatch a dragon. That should be my new motto.” He mumbled, smacking Draco’s hand, “Stop doing that! You’re not supposed to be touching a nearly-hatched egg.”

“How long more do you need to wait for?” Draco asked, folding his hand neatly on his lap, “I would’ve guessed less than a day if it’s a native specie.”

“I don’t know.” Harry peered at the egg, “Papa knew close to nothing when it comes to hatching a pygmy, and books aren’t exactly helpful either. Not many had witnessed the hatching process of a dragon, even in Asgard.”

Draco didn’t respond. Harry stretched himself and stared at the night sky, listening to the sound of wind howling across the castle. Even in April it was still freezing cold in the Astronomy tower at night, but the altitude and the complete view of the rest of the castle outshone all the inconvenience. It was too late to see the lake and the mountains now, but Harry could see light coming through the windows of other parts of Hogwarts just fine. Harry had always liked high places, having grown up in the sky-tall Stark Tower, and in a way those twinkling light of classrooms and halls reminded him of New York.

Harry had almost fallen asleep when the door was to the tower was smashed open. He jolted awake, and relaxed again when he saw Fred and George bursting into the balcony. “Oh it’s you.” He mumbled faintly.

Draco stiffened up beside him.

“So that’s why no one could find Harry at dinner.” Fred, or maybe George, mused.

“With the prettiest boy in Slytherin! Hullo Malfoy.” The other one, whoever that was, teased, “Did we interrupt anything?”

Draco looked like he wasn’t sure if he should bark back an insult. Harry’s face turned slightly pink before he decided to talk back. “Right, I was just about to get naked.” He said in an extra dry tone, “If you can spare us thirty minutes, I would very much appreciate it. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t say no if you want to join either—you know, the _fun things with twins_.” Harry deliberately purred the last few words and winked at the Weasleys.

The expression of absolute horror on Fred and George’s—and Draco’s—face was equally priceless and frightening.

“I was _kidding_.” After a moment of silence Harry suddenly realized what they were probably all thinking. He yelled to clarify, throwing up his hands, “Draco and I were having a nice conversation that I sort of fell asleep on. That’s the only thing we did. I swear.” Upon the silence that met him again Harry complained to himself: _I can’t believe they took it seriously!_

 _You’re_ _eleven_ _. They’re_ _British_ _. You just made a very Tony-Stark comment. What did you expect?_ Tom answered.

Harry forced a topic change. “So.” He said, clapping his hands together, “What are you guys here for?”

Fred—Harry was eighty percent confident that this _was_ Fred—recovered first. “Right—” He said, looking a bit red, “We were looking for you. We have the things you wanted us to get.”

“The thing...oh, that!” Harry remembered. Since first-years were not allowed out of school ground, Harry asked the Weasley twins to help him with all the shopping, especially when it comes to things like wizardry prank toys. After the whole HYDRA ordeal finished (at least it’s done for now) Tony started to examine ways of combining magic into battle technologies, and decided to hand the task of experimenting with various objects down to Harry. “Always nice to look at things from different perspectives,” He said, “Teenagers have the best idea of what is useful and what is not.” Strangely, the first things Harry found useful were all the “toys” in the wizardry world. Like goo that can glue people’s legs onto the ground, or pellets that make people glow in the dark, or things with an effect non-removable and wearing off only after three hours—well, imagine having all _that_ made into arrowheads for Uncle Clint.

“Why are you buying music balls?” Draco tilted his head as Harry took the bag of balls from George: “If you’re looking for small artifacts, I could find you things with way better quality.” He said, “These aren’t even pretty.”

Fred made a face at Draco's comment. “Man, but these are _cheap_.”

Harry just shook his head. “I’m not going to keep them, really.” He explained, “My Dad’s going to study them and try to replicate the way it works so that we can make them useful in fights.”

“Your father is actually our role models right now.” George told Harry excitedly, “Tony Stark makes the best pranks ever.”

“We learned more about him from a friend in America.” Fred explained.

Harry thought about it. “What about Loki?”

“Dunno yet. Apparently he’s the most mysterious Avengers.” Fred shook his head, “But we’ll find out.”

“We always do.” George said.

 _Well, wait till they find out that Loki is the actual_ _God of Mischief_ _._ Tom mused.

_Oh my, that’s gonna be so fun._

“Well then, wait till you see Loki’s pranks to comment.” Harry grinned, taking out a music ball. Those toys, powered by magic, works in a similar fashion as modern MP3s. Except that it could only repeat one song, and except that it never runs out of power (supposedly). Harry had made quite some interesting discoveries about its properties, and especially the way energy is converted inside the ball. Of course it was enchanted and ultimately run on magic, different kind of energy could still react with each other...

“How do you use this in combat?” Draco asked, curious, “The only thing they do is play stupid tunes.”

“It involves a bit of muggle technology.” Harry said, standing up to pull the glove out of his bracelet. He needed to adjust the power output to the exact point in order for it to synchronize with the music balls. Neither Fred nor George looked like they were planning to leave.

“Watch.” Harry said as he finished adjusting, then tossed the ball into the air. With precision he hit the repulsor blast exactly at the centre of the ball, and it blazed into nothingness. A dull pain shot across Harry’s head, and Harry grimaced. Some day he really need to figure out a way of aiming the effect only at the enemies.

Fred and George, in identical motions, jumped and yelled. But of course Harry couldn’t hear them, as they also couldn’t hear themselves. Draco took out his wand and tried to use a spell, but no spark came out its tip. He tried again—same result.

Harry grinned as he watched the three of them...panicked. The energy wave exploding from the impact momentarily kills people’s eardrum, effective in approximately a hundred meter radius and for a five minutes duration. No lasting effect—except maybe a little bit headache, which was exactly what he needed to counter.

 _You know, this only proves just how useful a telepathic link is._ Tom said, sounding pleased. _See? We’re talking just fine._

Fred—maybe George, he still hadn’t figured out, but Harry had decided to call whoever standing on the left of the other “Fred”—broke into a wide grin as the muting effect wore off. “This is brilliant!” He yelled (the sound was still muffled from Harry’s perspective) “Can we use those too? Imagine using this in the Great Hall at Halloween!”

“It’ll be excessively awesome.” George agreed.

“If you want?” Harry shrugged, “But you’ll need to experiment quite a bit to figure out the optimal energy output. It’ll be hard to control without a weapon like this.” He took off his gloves.

“So it disrupts sounds?” Draco asked slowly. Harry could see the gear in his head turning, but he didn’t mind sharing his experiment results: “Mostly to disrupt communication during fight. Especially if you sneak up on a large group of targets, it’d create just the right amount of panic to distract them...or if you’re planing to assassinate someone very important, it would generate enough chaos—and then you won’t be heard anyways.”

“How come we couldn’t use magic under that effect?” George asked. 

“I actually didn’t know.” Harry answered honestly, “You’re the first wizards I showed this experiment to. It doesn’t work on Aesir magic...I guess that’s because they don’t need incantations to take effect?”

Fred and George nodded thoughtfully. A few moments later, George brought his hands together with an air of finality: “So, Haz, thanks for giving us all those ideas.”

“We’ll make really awesome prank toys in memory of your awesome contributions.” Fred grinned.

“It has been an awesome ni—what _is that?_ ” George cut himself off, eyes widened. 

Harry followed his gaze and saw the cracks on the tiny shell bulging a bit, as if something was pushing it out. It took a second for Harry to sense his _seidr_ boiling, and then for him to realize what was happening. 

 _God fuck_. He nearly screamed to Tom as he jumped. _Why did you not alarm me!_

Tom sounded totally unapologetic. _Don’t you enjoy seeing their face when they find out just what this is?_ He said teasingly, _Keep_ _calm_ _and hatch a dragon, remember?_

 _Calm my_ _ass_ _._ Harry hissed back, head running through what he could say to save the situation. “It’s, er, it’s a lizard egg. Texas Horned lizard. Crossbreed with Bosnian Viper. And a Egyptian Fruit Bat. By which I meant one of its grandparents is a bat. With a healthy amount of gamma radiation involved. It’s my Christmas present.” Harry ranted as the shell cracked further and further, “I mean Hogwarts let people keep toads so lizards should be just fine and how do you think snakes will do? I’m planning to get a snake for next year, maybe for Draco, and—”

The egg shell broke and a tiny, black, scaled paw poked out of it. Then the whole arm poked out and Draco hissed at Harry and the latter finally shut up.

The four of them were all watching the egg very carefully now, as the shell pieces fell off one by one. Harry filled the atmosphere with all the magic he could release. The arm dunked back into the shell, and a second later it punched a bigger hole in the shell and finally stuck its head out of the egg.

It had deep, night coloured scales, black reflecting tinges of dark blue. Two little...are they horns? Perked on its head. It had pale blue eyes, glittering like gems, and as it emerged from the shell completely it looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. Recognizing his _seidr_ , it made a pleased squeak and rubbed its back on the napkin in the basket, stretching its wings. With its large wings and horns and blue eyes, it looked adorably cute. Harry also noticed that, unlike a lot of other dragons from books, it only had two hind legs aside from its wings. 

Long moment of silence as baby Dreki flipped its now-dried wings and displayed the perfectly black webbing. Finally Fred spoke up, voice shaking a bit. “Harry, _this_ is why you and Ron and Hermione got detention, right? Your _ultimate_ prank.”

“What?” Harry looked up, distracted, “No!”

“You managed to steal Hagrid’s dragon egg before that Ministry woman, Umbridge, got here.” George said with an equally shaky voice, “And then you managed to convince Dumbledore to let you keep it. Mate, you win. I’m serious. You win.”

“Um.” Draco interrupted, then stopped. 

“Snape is extremely displeased, and that’s why he gave you detention.” Fred continued the story, “And—”

Harry finally broke out of his trance upon seeing the little dragon for the first time. “Dreki is _not_ a dragon.” He said firmly, “Less a Norwegian Ridgeback—you ever seen one _this_ small??” Roughly estimating, Dreki could fit perfectly in Harry’s palm, “As a matter of fact, you just witnessed the birth of the first crossbreed between bat, lizard and snake on Earth, and now you should go back to your dorm.”

 _And feel honoured_. Tom added.

“And feel honoured.” Harry echoed, and stood up before either of the twins responded, “And I am going to meet with Ron and Hermione…before someone else notices I was gone.” Harry exchanged a glance with Draco, and the latter nodded, blinking furiously.

He didn’t stay behind to listen to Draco threatening Fred and George into secrecy. He could always trust Draco to do a good job at _that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating in Hawaii :D The beach is awesome but I hate getting my hair wet with seawater *yikes*
> 
> Sorry everyone if I didn't reply to your comment! I really don't have time to go through all of them right now, but I appreciate everyone's support! A huge thank you to all who's been leaving comments :D


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forbidden Forest Pt1

Hermione was indefinitely disappointed that she didn’t get to witness Dreki hatching out of her shell. Ron was just jealous that Fred and George, of all people, were at the scene while he was not. Harry asked Tony to send all the books they had on Dragons of the Nine Realms over, but so far he hadn’t been able to find a description matching Dreki. Then also, Dreki was still really young, and hadn’t developed all the traits adult dragons should have yet.

In the last video conference Tony told him that Loki had gone to Asgard with Thor when the news of Queen Frigga falling sick got to them. Harry felt concerned—Grandma had been, as Papa said, quite weak those days, almost never truly well even when Harry visited her. He hoped she could get well faster…maybe if she eats more Golden Apples, it would cure whatever disease she was having?

Either way, Harry breathed nothing about the Norwegian Ridgeback egg Hagrid had sent away, nor the detention he got from Snape. He felt infinitely glad that Hogwarts don’t do call-homes like normal high schools do—really, telling Tony that he had been punished for breaking a rule would be excessively awkward. The only thing Harry could imagine him saying was “next time, do it in a way they won’t find out about.”

A note was brought to them by the school owl Friday morning for the detention. _You will be serving your detentions tonight. Please report to the Entrance Hall—Filch will be waiting for you at 7pm_ , it said. The writing looked like Professor McGonagall’s, and Harry wondered briefly if she saw the unfairness in this whole debacle.

“I hate Snape.” Ron moaned at dinner, “A whole night of relaxation, gone! That’s what, five hours??”

“It’s _Professor_ Snape.” Hermione corrected.

Harry was busy feeding Dreki under the table. So far the little dragon had only accepted raw vegetable and boiled eggs for food, and had shown a clear affection towards berries. Hermione had noted that her diet was vastly different from the diet of Ministry classified Earth dragons, and had dedicated a whole notebook for collection data and observation from Dreki—she’s filled three pages already.

“And he tried to kill you last term!” Ron turned to Harry, “Mate, say something!”

“Pass me that bowl of grape.” Harry whispered, completely ignoring Ron’s question. Ron sighed deeply before reaching out towards the grape as Harry asked.

Dreki launched at the grapes at once, scratching the skin then burrowing her head into the fruit. She was _so tiny_ —even though she had grown from smaller than Harry’s palm to bigger than his phone in less than a week, she was still incredibly small. Her head was the exact same size as that grape she was nibbling at. Harry hoped she could grow up quicker—he was _so_ looking forward to communicating with Dreki! Powerful as All-Speak was, there was yet no way it could translate an infant’s speech, be it an infant human or an infant dragon.

“She’s so nice to you.” Ron said enviously, “Every time I try to pet him her looks like she’s going to bite my finger off.”

“She would never really.” Harry told him, “I bet your finger taste worse than strawberries and grapes to her.”

“Dreki probably just doesn’t like Scrabble’s scent.” Hermione suggested, “You pet Scrabble a lot.”

Dreki fluttered her wings and made a tiny squeak, as if agreeing to Hermione’s guess.

“Your illusions are _really_ useful.” Ron commented, looking around, “Wow, this feels so weird—we have a dragon _right_ under the table and no one walking around knows!”

“ _Shhh_!” Hermione hissed, glancing around alarmingly. “Do you want to get us caught? That would cost us _way_ more than a hundred and fifty points. And remember that we all agreed Dreki is _NOT_ a dragon! Finish dinner and let’s get this detention over with.”

Harry fed a spoonful of pudding into his mouth and looked up at the Head Table. A lot of professors weren’t present, he noticed—neither Professor Dumbledore nor Professor Quirrell was there.

The three of them went down to the Entrance Hall, and sure enough Filch was waiting for them there. Harry made sure to cover Dreki—who was now sound asleep in Harry’s pocket—in a thick layer of illusion. Dreki never minded all the disguises—as a matter of fact, she loved having Harry’s _seidr_ surrounding her.

Filch scanned the three of them, one by one, slowly, as Harry stopped in front of him. “Here we go.” He said, the cat-like, orange eyes glowing evilly, “Follow me. Ah detentions, I love this…”

Harry exchanged a look with Ron. That’s not sounding so good…

“It’s just a pity they let old punishments die.” Filch said as he led the three of them out of the castle, his voice dripping with menace. “In the good old days detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons”

Hermione gulped beside Harry. Harry’s lips thinned to a line and he clenched his hands into a fist. _Torture_. The one thing he hated _so much_ in the whole goddamn world.

“Hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me.” He continued, leering at the trio, “I’ve still got the chains in my office, keep ’em well oiled in case they’re ever needed…Good God, how I miss the screaming.”

Cold fury rose in Harry’s chest. He stared straight ahead, trying to ignore whatever Filch was still going on about. _Somewhere along the line, an Avada Kedavra will be waiting for him._ Tom said, his voice chillier than the coldest day in Hogwarts, and despite knowing he shouldn’t be Harry couldn’t help agreeing with Tom’s comment.

“I bet you three would make very sweet sounds under those chains. Hmmm, I wish they still had the whips of the old time...hmmm...off you go now! Hagrid will have a little task for ya all in the forest.” Filth hummed with glee, “Oh, I doubt if you’d ever come out of it alive.”

At that, something howled in the forest. Hermione was incredibly quiet beside Harry, and Ron gasped: “The Forest? But isn’t that _Forbidden_?”

“Not to spider-food, I say.” Filch answered. Harry started thinking about how he could make this person disappear from Hogwarts. _Quietly_. He shouldn’t leave any evidence…but also make it clear enough to anyone that looks that it was him who committed the act. _Then_ people would probably stop messing with him—Aunt Natasha had had a huge influence on him, he mused.

Something in Harry whispered to warn him: _killing is_ _not_ _the answer to anything._

Harry argued back: _But that’s the most effective way to shut people up. Besides, it’s not like I really am planning to kill Filch. At least not right now._

Filch handed the trio over to Hagrid, who was waiting at the door of his hut. That was a relief—Harry would do anything just to get Filch out of sight at this point, and going into a forest full of werewolves didn’t sound so bad. He had his sling ring and armour pieces with him, after all.

“Now, I won’ lie to yeh all.” Hagrid said as they progressed into the forest, “What we’re doing tonight is dangerous. Something bad is in the forest, hurting unicorns—look.” He pointed at and crouched down beside a puddle of silvery looking liquid, “That is unicorn blood, that is.”

“Why would something be hurting unicorns?” Ron asked, sounding frightened.

Harry remembered reading something about it, but he must had blanked it out of his memories as he couldn’t think of anything concrete about unicorns. Tom reminded him: _Unicorn blood keeps you alive, no matter how close to death you are. But then you’re said to lead a cursed life, which makes this not too wonderful a remedy for anything._

 _Are we supposed to know that?_ Harry asked.

 _It’s in that alchemy book Hermione borrowed from the restricted section._ Tom told him. _The description on unicorn blood sounds like it could be useful to us someday, so I memorized it. That’s the only possible reason for hurting a unicorn—otherwise any material you want you can just get from it. Those animals would even give you their shed horns willingly._

“Don’t know.” Hagrid answered, “Now, follow me! I’ve found a unicorn dead the other day already—this is the second one. It’s our job to find the poor beast.”

 _I’ll guess that the dead unicorn had lost a ton of blood when it was found._ Tom said quietly. _Actually I_ _have_ _been wondering how unicorn blood can be used in brewing Potions? And what can neutralize the curse carried in those blood?_

Harry decided that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell Ron and Hermione all about unicorn blood.

“So, we’re splitting up.” Hagrid said, patting the hunting dog he took with him, “Let’s see…Hermione, you’ll come with me. Ron, Harry, with Fang. If you find the unicorn, send up some green spark; if you find the thing hurting the unicorn, red sparks. All clear? ”

“Okay.” Hermione took a deep breath. She reached out and squished both Harry’s and Ron’s shoulders almost encouragingly, before she walked over to join Hagrid. Hagrid handed Ron the lamp. They took the path on the left, while Hagrid and Hermione walked to the right. Before they departed, Harry thought he saw Hermione fishing out her phone to use as a flashlight, and followed suit. Not much brighter than a lamp, but an extra source of light was always comforting…even now that he remembered _Lumos_ , Harry supposed using technology still gave him some sort of psychological comfort.

“Someday I want to get a tepholeen like that.” Ron said, peering at Harry’s flashing phone, “Those things my dad had disassembled at home look nothing as fancy as that.”

“It’s _telephone_ , Ron. I’ll see if I can enchant one that works in the magic world.” Harry answered, looking around. The forest was depressingly silent—not even the sound of wind rustling the leaves could be heard. The only sounds were their own and Fang’s footsteps crushing the fallen leaves. Somehow it made Harry itching to put some music on. Maybe “Shoot to Thrill”, that would be a good choice. According to Dad, it’s _always_ a good choice.

 _Then you’ll scare away anything that’s eating the unicorns._ Tom said drily. _Unless that’s exactly the effect you want?_

_Maybe not then._

The two of them followed the trail of unicorn blood closely. Harry fingered Dreki nervously in his pocket, until the little dragon got quite annoyed and bit his finger lightly before shifting around and going back to sleep.

They passed through another few trees, and more and more blood was being spluttered all over the forest ground. Harry didn’t talk with Ron, but he could hear his friend’s teeth gritting together. It _was_ quite scary to be in the forest this time at night…Harry wondered if this was the standard procedure of detentions. After all, this was the first detention he had ever received in his life.

“What is that?” Ron suddenly stopped in his track, whispering with fear in his voice.

Harry looked up at the direction Ron was looking at. They’ve come to an opening now, and with the puddles of silver blood led to the shape of an animal lying on the ground. It’s the unicorn! Albeit quite bloody and hurt it seemed still alive... 

Harry was almost overwhelmed with joy, before he noticed something else that was there—close by. The bush on the edge of the clearing quivered, and out of the shadows a hooded figure came crawling across the ground. Harry stood frozen in his track, Fang shivering at his feet, as he watched the figure approach the unicorn. Then it lowered its head and with a sickening sound began to sip the blood.

 _Bloody_ _hell_ _, it actually_ _is_ _a unicorn eater_ was all Harry was able to think about before a stabbing pain hit his head. It was nothing he had experienced before—such blazing pain, like there was a knife cutting him open...Harry stumbled backwards, feeling like his brain was going to split into two, just as the hooded figure looked up, silver blood dripping from its lips.

Ron let out an ear-piercing scream, and Fang ran off, whining with fright. Harry’s headache got worse, soon spreading to his whole body as he felt the Eternal Flames in his blood suddenly acting up, launching towards his head. Harry fell on the ground, squinting his eyes as the burning pain went on and on. It felt like being eaten away by acid, if not worse, and Harry wondered briefly if getting snake venom dropped into his brain would hurt in the same fashion. He thought he might had heard Tom, but he couldn’t make out if Tom was screaming or laughing. Or was that Tom? That didn’t sound like Tom—except Harry was pretty sure it was inside his head. Somehow it all sounded muffled, and Harry could only look up in terror as the figure approached him, walking in a zombie-like fashion, closer and closer…

Harry heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped between him and the hooded creature. The hood fell off the figure as it stumbled back in surprise, fending off the...is that a centaur?! Harry flashed his phone light at the figure before it disappeared, and his eyes widened.

His vision might be clouded with his own tear from the headache, and he might had been feeling dizzy, but Harry was certain he saw that face.

_It was Professor Quirrell._


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FOrbidden FOrest Pt2

The centaur—a beautiful silver creature with the upper body of a lean young man—turned to Harry and Ron after he scared away the figure, blue eyes searching on the boy’s faces, “Are you alright?”

“Ye…yes.” _No I am most definitely not. Was that fucking Professor Quirrell_. “Thank you. What just happened?”

The centaur didn’t answer. He studied Harry a bit closer, and said directly to him: “Harry James Potter.”

As shaken up as Harry was with the residual dull pain still piercing through his head, his mouth replied automatically: “Um, I changed my name.”

“Yes.” The centaur agreed, “Harold James Stark-Lokason. The day your name changed, the stars swayed in their path to acknowledge it.”

This time Harry was shocked. How the hell did it—well, _he_ —know Harry’s name in the first place?! Even on the Hogwarts name list his name was listed as “Harry Stark-Lokason.” No one knew his legal first name, or his middle name…or supposedly no one in the school should know. 

Then, _what_ with the stars _what_?

Harry silently helped Ron to his feet, even though he was still shaking himself. Tom wasn’t responding to him again, and that was making Harry worried—he’ll need to check again once he gets back to common room. Dreki was still asleep in Harry’s pocket…he couldn’t believe that little dragon could _sleep_ _through_ all that horrible stuff, but Harry figured he couldn’t talk reason with an infant either. The centaur loomed over them, heads turning from side to side, watching for danger. He turned his head on Harry again, and said: “My name is Firenze. Please do if you have means to summon your guardians.”

“Hi, em, glad to meet you. This is Ron.” Harry pulled Ron’s sleeves. Ron looked like he was going to faint at any second, but he still smiled up weakly: “Hi.”

Firenze nodded at Ron, hooves pawing on the ground. After Harry sent a green spark to the sky, he said: “Harold James Stark-Lokason, son of Loki of Asgard, of Anthony Edward Stark of Earth. Prince of two realms.” Firenze paused, “Three, as a matter of fact. Something else resides in you, young prince. Something in its origin...evil.”

Upon hearing his fathers’ names, Harry’s eyes widened in wonder. Firenze was the first…creature that actually knew about his parents before he explicitly explain everything. _Is that a centaur thing?_ He wondered to himself.

But, wait a sec, what? “Evil?” Harry asked aloud, frowning.

Firenze didn’t answer. Instead, he asked another question as he whisked his tail: “Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

Ron spoke up. “We haven’t learned about it in school—we’ve only ever used horn and tail-hair in Potions.”

“It’s used to extend you life.” Harry said quietly. He saw no point in concealing his knowledge. “But the loss is far greater than the gain, so I don’t see the point in anyone using it.” _Even less Professor Quirrell. What the_ _hell_ _would he be needing_ _unicorn blood_ _for? He didn’t look like he was dying._

Ron gaped at Harry. Firenze hummed thoughtfully. “Beware, young prince.” He said, “It might not always be a good thing to know too much, see too much…sometimes knowledge can lead you to your downfall.” He paused, “What an interesting piece of information you memorized there.”

Suddenly Harry realized what Firenze was talking about. It was about _Tom_. Harry frowned, having the urge to defend his brother: “Tom is not evil.”

“Evil in origin. Evil in potential.” Firenze said, “Like your father, there lays two roads in front of him—or perhaps, behind.”

Harry had no idea what that was supposed to mean. _Tom?_ He called again. This time a groan responded to him: _I_ ’ _m fine, just the Flames cleaning me up again. Listen to the horse-guy and fill me in later._

Firenze continued: “But you’re correct, Prince Harold. Who would wish to live, if it is worse than death? Unless, of course, you need to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring back your full power and strength. Can you think of what that is?”

“Idunn’s Apples.” Harry said, the same time Ron whispered “the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry blinked. Right, it made much more sense for Professor Quirrell to be looking for the Philosopher’s Stone, seeing how he had no mean to get to Asgard on his own, any time soon. The Elixir of Life had a similar effect to the apple, at least in the part of extending one’s lifespan. But that brought Harry back to his original question—why would Quirrell be that desperate to drink unicorn blood just to sustain his life? 

“Isn’t the Stone in Flamel’s possession?” Ron asked.

Firenze shook his head. “It is closer to you than you could imagine.” He said, in a strangely cryptic way, “Beware of the two-faced man, young warriors. At the end of the maze lies what everyone seeks; Fate has been cut with the burning scissor of night time.”

“What?” Harry asked.

Firenze took no notice of Harry’s confusion: “Beware, young prince, one who holds two souls—Mars has brightened lately. Wisdom will not aid you in this quest. Farewell.” With that, he turned and galloped away, leaving Harry and Ron alone by the side of the now-pretty-much-dead unicorn.

Ron turned to Harry. “Do you get what he meant?” He asked, voice higher than usual, still shaking a bit, “Did you, did you see that thing?”

“I saw.” Harry said slowly, “Professor Quirrell.”

Ron shivered visibly. “I’m _never_ going to DADA again.” He whispered. 

They stood by the unicorn silently, watching the blood flow out from its wound. It might had been seconds or minutes or hours before they heard footsteps, and Hagrid dashing through the bushes: “Harry, Ron, what do ya find— _Oh Merlin_.”

“Harry!” Hermione whispered worriedly, coming out from behind Hagrid, “Ron! Are you guys okay?”

Ron looked like he was about to burst into tears.

Harry watched on numbly as Hagrid go up to the unicorn to check its wounds. Finally he shook his head and straightened up, turning his head in the direction of the trio: “’s dead, the poor thing. Did ya two see anything else?”

“It was Professor Quirrell.” Ron said, his voice impossibly sharp and high, “He was drinking the blood of the unicorn!”

Hagrid shook his head and went back to the unicorn. “You’re just shocked.” He told the boy, “Seein’ things. Come, help me get the poor beast back to my hut.”

“ _It was Quirrell!_ ” Ron shrieked. He was shuddering like a leaf in a tornado, all the shock and fright from the earlier event come flooding back to him. “It was, it was…”

“Rubbish. Why’d a professor do that?” Hagrid said, “Two days ago ya were telling me Professor Snape wants to murder Harry, ’n now Professor Quirrell. They don’t have no reason for hurting anythin’.”

“It’s not Snape who tried to kill Harry then—it must had also been Quirrell! He’s trying to drink unicorn blood to extend his life!” Ron ranted, “Then get the Philosopher’s Stone and live on forever!”

Harry debated whether he should stomp on Ron’s feet just to get him to shut up. Really, there’s no reason for them to go all around the school, telling everyone that Professor Quirrell is a dark wizard killing unicorns and looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. How many people would _believe_ that? Besides, someone like Hagrid didn’t even stand a _chance_ against Quirrell.

Hagrid looked up, alarmed. “Now, where did ya even hear about the stone?”

“A centaur…”

Harry stomped on Ron’s foot. _That_ was some detail they really could spare. Ron yelped and glared at Harry, but he seemed too tire to protest aloud.

“Centaurs.” Hagrid mumbled, “Never speak in certain terms, these guys. Now, listen, just don’t go wondering around the school, talkin’ ’bout the stone. A centaur might have told ya this, but it’s supposed teh be a secret.”

“We won’t look for it.” Harry promised, “But can you tell us if it’s well guarded?” 

“Of course! Anyone lookin’ for the stone won’ even ge’ past Fluffy.” Hagrid said proudly, puffing up his chest.

Now was Hermione's turn to freak out. “ _Fluffy_?” She said, “Four days ago you just told me how to get past him yourself!”

Hagrid blinked, as if suddenly remembering that conversation. “Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbled, “But you won’ be goin’ around lookin’ for it anyways. You said you won’.”

“You also told a whole _pub_ worth of people the night before.” Hermione took a deep breath and cut herself off right there. Her gaze searched across the crowd and one by one locked eyes with Ron and Harry. Harry saw the desperate look in her eyes and thought he might very well agree to it. So far, Hagrid had given them the exact location of the Stone, and also the way to pass the first trial.

And to think Tony was able to pass through the maze and call it a great exercise for Harry. How hard would it be for a _professor at Hogwarts_ to get to the end?

“That Stone.” Ron whispered firmly to Harry as Hagrid turned his back on them, “will be gone next Tuesday.”

“We need to tell someone.” Hermione whispered back.

“But first, I want to figure out what exactly Firenze was trying to tell us.” Harry finalized the decision. “Then we’ll be going to Professor Dumbledore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back from vacation! Sorry about the long wait, I'll try updating more frequently now that I'm home :D
> 
> Good news: I've almost finished writing this year! Up to where I've written it's 35.5 chapters and I'm only missing the last scene where Harry goes back home :D Hopefully I'll be starting to write the next year soon


	27. Chapter 27

“Two faced man, two faced...” Hermione mumbled, “Two faced...”

“It’s _Quirrell_ , I told you.” Ron banged his head on the table. It was quite a rare sight, but even he wasn’t interested in breakfast and went straight to the library with his friends in the morning. After the whole restless night both boys had trouble sleeping, and the price they paid for staying up all night was the bag under their eyes and the dull headache making them groan. _Harry couldn’t believe Dreki was still quietly asleep in his pocket. Like, seriously, did she sleep eighteen hours a day?!_ “I saw him with my own eyes! Harry did too.”

“I believe you.” Hermione said, “It’s just that two-faced thing is throwing me off.”

“Well, on the surface he’s a nice and even cowardly Hogwarts teacher, and in his heart he’s a dark wizard wanting to live forever. Two-faced, duh.”

“I feel like it’s more than that.” Hermione said slowly, “But let’s leave it there for now. What’s the next thing Firenze said?”

“At the end of the maze lies what everyone seeks.” Harry recited.

“Which means that, at the end of that maze on the third floor corridor is the Philosopher’s Stone. Which is what everyone wants.” Ron interpreted.

Harry looked at him. “That’s not true.” He said, “I don’t think _everyone_ wants the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Of course everyone does! It makes you _live forever_ and give you _tons of money_! How can you not?” Ron exclaimed.

Harry was completely unimpressed. “Take me as an example. I’m inheriting more money than I can spend in fifty lifetimes, and I have a rightful claim to basically an infinite supply of Golden Apples. Why would I want something that I already have? Then I bet someone like _Dumbledore_ wouldn’t want it either—as far as I can tell it brings more trouble than benefit.”

“Okay.” Hermione said as she jotted down the things they were discussing, “Could be something else, but right now the most _reasonable_ guess of that thing is the Philosopher’s Stone. Let’s move on—what else?”

Ron replied this time. “Fate has been cut with the burning scissors of nighttime.” He said, “I have no idea what that means.”

Harry didn’t either. He knew that the threads woven by the Norns guide people towards their destiny, but he also knew that the future was never set in stone. It’s fluid, it’s changeable...so he had somehow changed his future? But why “cut”? Had he lost the ties to someone that was supposed to be important in his life?

“Next?” Hermione prompted.

“Er, something about Harry having two souls.” Ron said, turning to face Harry, “And there was this talk about Tom being evil and whatnots.”

“Tom?” Hermione asked.

“Harry’s imaginary snake friend.” Ron said.

“Um.” Harry went, feeling a bit guilty for lying to Ron earlier. 

 _You should tell them._ Tom said in Harry’s head. _About me, I mean._

_Are you sure? No one is supposed to know..._

_The centaur knows, obviously. It wouldn’t hurt if they swear an oath not to tell anyone._

_Do you_ _want_ _me to?_ Harry asked. _That was what he really was concerned about._

Tom was silent for a moment. _Yes._ He said finally. _Yes I do_.

Harry sighed. He supposed Living a life like Tom’s really was quite sad, existing in a body he had no control over. And then no one around even knew his existence...

Harry came back to reality only to find Ron and Hermione staring at him worriedly again.

“Harry, are you okay?” Ron asked, “You said your head hurt when you saw Professor Quirrell last night—is it still hurting?”

“No it’s not, and we’ll come back to that later.” Harry said, “It’s—it's Tom. Actually, he’s not my imaginary snake friend—sorry Ron. It’s not that simple. I can tell you about him if you both swear not to tell anyone else—any soul alive.”

“Er.” Ron exchanged an uneasy look with Hermione. “Okay.”

“No, actually swear it.” Harry insisted. Even if swearing an oath didn’t affect humans the same way they affect gods, it would still be useful. “It’s important. Less than twenty people in all of the Nine Realms know about Tom—well, at least, if you don’t count the centaurs and other supernatural creatures.”

Ron said, “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“We’re kind of off topic now, but alright—and Ron, that is _not_ how you swear an oath. I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear on my honour and magic that no living soul will hear of your secret from me.” Hermione nodded solemnly.

Ron stared at her. “Dude,” He exclaimed, “Where did you learn to say things like that??”

“Do you not even watch TV—right, I forgot you’re _wizards_.” Hermione stuck out her tongue. Harry thought this might be the same tone Draco and Ron sometimes use to address “ _muggles_.”

Ron sighed and repeated the exact phrasing of Hermione’s words. Harry was actually surprised to find how well she captured the way gods swear things on their honour—she _does_ read a lot.

“Okay.” Harry said, pulled out his wand and started bombarding the study room with all kinds of spells and wards he knew. Once finished, he sat down again: “About Tom...”

He told his friends all about Tom, the mysterious soul that somehow ended up in him. Tom was there already when Harry was adopted, at about the age of two, but he made his first presence when Harry visited Asgard at three. As one of the stupidest things he had done, Harry sneaked into the vault (to this date, he still remembered that the door was wide-opened. Seriously?) and climbed onto the gauntlet holding the Eternal Flames. He remembered the orange, burning flames, but the minute he tried to touch it the colour turned into a pale blue-green colour and enveloped Harry. Next thing he knew, Loki was performing a hastily-thrown-together ritual on him and for the first time he heard someone else in his head. That’s how Tom came to be, and that was also how Harry ended up with sparks of Eternal Flames flowing in his bloodstream.

“So, when I say Tom is three years younger than me, that’s because he is.” Harry said triumphantly.

 _Am NOT_. Tom sulked. _You know perfectly well that I’m older than you._

_Doesn’t count if you don’t remember._

As of where Tom had originally come from, Pepper thought it was one of those horror stories about one twin dying and entering the body of the other. Tony called that total bullshit. Loki informed them that, although Tom’s soul was broken, he originally belonged to someone at least ten years older than Harry. And that the broken piece was not imbued in him on purpose. With the ritual Loki performed, the missing parts of Tom’s soul had been filled with the flames, which burnt away all his memories and desires and whatnots. To summarize, the Eternal Flames basically acted as a karma cleaner, and from that day on...

“...a whole new thread of Fate was woven for Tom.” Harry stopped himself. “Wait. Is that what the scissor thing mean?” That Tom had become someone else from who he was before? It made sense, actually, since Harry knew that not all the threads woven for Tom’s past life had been severed yet. It would take much more to actually make Tom a completely clean and new person—so a burning scissor??

Ron and Hermione, for their parts, seemed more concerned with the other things Harry had said. “So he’s there right now?” Ron asked, eyes big as saucers, “You really holds _two separate souls_?”

“Yea.” Harry nodded, “My Papa has done some research in the past years and had come up with ways to separate us completely. Get Tom a new body and everything. The whole thing’s super tricky though—that’s why it took us that many years just to get close.”

“Are you sure...” Hermione cut herself off and rethought. Then she shook her head, “I guess you’re pretty sure he _actually_ exists. Does he really remember nothing from...um, _Before_?”

_Tom, do you want to answer that question?_

_No, I just want to watch. Go ahead and tell them everything you want._

“He doesn’t.” Harry answered, “Whoever Tom’s past life was he’s not the same as Tom. But Papa did say that there will still be _some_ connection. Until Tom gets the whole ritual done and a new body.” Coming to think of it, wasn’t the Eternal Flames acting up last night because of a pain in his head? Harry wondered if Quirrell had anything to do with Tom’s past life. “Tom would have some of his thinking patterns copied off the guy he was before—actually, you know what, we’re not even sure Tom was a _guy_ before he got stuck in my head. All we knew was that he was human.” Harry paused before continuing, more quietly, “None of us know how that other person ripped his or her soul though—the soul is a serious topic even for the best sorcerers of the Nine Realms. I mean, things like entering the Astral Dimension, or pushing your soul out of your body once in a while is fine, but tampering with a soul is warned against in all cultures. Ripping a soul is _monstrous_.”

“That’s why Firenze said his origin is evil, right?” Ron piped up, “It’s because he only exists as a direct result of something horrible! Like _ripping a soul_.”

 _That makes sense._ Harry thought.

 _Didn’t the horse guy also say that I have the potential in performing evil deeds too?_ Tom said. _That explanation doesn’t cover it all._

 _Come on, you’re NOT evil._ Harry hissed. _Don’t even go in that direction._

 _You’re thinking Thanos-evil._ Tom pointed out. _Of course I’m not like that. But if people call Papa evil I would very much love to take after his traits._

 _You’re hopeless._ Harry told Tom.

 _Hi pot._ Tom said. _Meet kettle._

Harry’s lips curled up as he refocused onto reality. Hermione was watching him very closely, and as he looked up she asked slowly: “Harry, were you just talking to Tom?”

“Hmm? Yes. Sorry, I can’t really focus on both conversations at the same time.”

“Is that what you were doing every time you fall into your weird trance?” She asked. “Talking to Tom?”

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed, “God, I can _finally_ say this! Every time I zone out I’m just talking to Tom, not going crazy or jinxed. Especially that time in front of the Mirror of Erised, I was definitely not _entranced_ by whatever magic—” Harry stopped in his track as something suddenly clicked in his head, “Erised. Desire.”

“What?” Ron blinked.

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “‘At the end of the maze lies what everyone seeks.’ It would make sense if the mirror is at the end, because what each person seeks _is_ unique, and the mirror can capture whatever one desires.” She tilted her head and frowned, “But didn’t Professor Dumbledore take it away?” 

“He said it’s going _out of the student’s reach_.” Harry said, “Third floor corridor _is_ out of normal students’ reach.”

“That also explains why Harry’s father didn’t find the Philosopher’s Stone at the end of the maze when _they_ came! Cuz the mirror wasn’t there yet.” Ron finally caught up with the conversation, “The Stone must have something to do with the mirror. I bet you need to reach into the mirror to get it.”

Hermione started to write that down on the parchment. 

“What did Firenze say next?” Harry asked, “Something about Mars brightening?”

“Oh, I know this!” Hermione said eagerly, raising her head, “Centaurs are star watchers, and they see the future and past in the patterns of stars. Mars is the warring planet, so he must meant there is a war coming up, or that something dangerous will happen…” Suddenly she looked worried, “ _Another_ life threatening Mission Impossible? I really don’t want to put it this way, but what is _wrong_ with this school?!”

Harry had the urge to reply “everything,” but restrained himself last second.

“And something about wisdom not aiding us in the quest.” Ron continued, “I guess we’ll just need to act on instinct then. Since apparently we aren’t allowed to use brains.”

 _I’m pretty sure that’s not what Firenze meant._ Tom mused.

“That’s it?” Hermione asked, “Okay.” She said, looking down at her writing, “So far we’ve found out that—the Mirror of Erised is at the end of the maze in third floor corridor, which somehow contains the Philosopher’s Stone. The first thing we need to pass through is a three headed dog that would fall asleep if you sing to it. Professor Quirrell is dying, is two faced, and is looking for the stone. Obviously this quest would be dangerous, and Tom…well, Tom has nothing to do with this, really.”

“And wisdom can’t help us.” Ron supplied.

Hermione glared at him wearily: “Alright, and wisdom can’t help us. What do we do now?”

“Dumbledore.” Ron answered before Harry could say a word, “He should know something since he was the one who showed us the mirror.”

“Right. The very least we could do is ask him to upgrade the security.” Hermione said, standing up, “Let’s go.”

Harry swallowed back his comment of having a bad feeling about Dumbledore. He didn’t believe Dumbledore _could_ possibly know nothing about what had been going on in the school. The best way of hiding a thing was never putting it into a castle full of underage students then warn everyone not to approach wherever the thing was hidden. Really, Harry would be amazed if Fred and George had never tried even once this year to sneak through the trapdoor and pass the maze…

Dreki poked her head out of Harry’s pocket and stretched her neck to chew on his finger. Harry sighed and got up—maybe he should have more trust in the old headmaster. After all, his suspicions and doubts were all unfounded…right?


	28. Chapter 28

“First question. Does any of us know where Dumbledore’s office is? And how to get in?” Hermione asked as they walked up the stairs.

“I still remember.” Harry said, “That is, if he hasn’t changed his password from start of school.”

He lead his friends towards the gargoyle statues. It was quiet inside the castle—everyone else was out on the field, watching the last Quidditch match of the year, between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. So far Gryffindor was second place—Ravenclaw would need over three hundred points to catch up—but Slytherin was way ahead of everyone. Harry had considered applying next year, when he’s allowed to bring broomsticks to school. Then he wondered if he could ask his parents to help him modify and enchant the broomstick to be, say, supersonic—it wouldn’t be against the rules…would it?

As he reached the staircase and the statues Harry came to a halt. “Candy Storm.” He said questioningly, hoping the password still worked. To his absolute surprise, it did. The gargoyle walked away and gestured at the spiral staircase: “Dunno what you’re doing here, but you have the password. Up you go, kids!”

They all stepped up the spiral, and it began moving upwards slowly. Harry actually wondered just how high up Professor Dumbledore’s office was—it seemed to be taking forever for the motion to come to a stop, and once again Harry found himself in front of the huge oak door.  

“What do we do now?” Ron whispered, studying the door, “Just go in?”

“We _knock_.” Hermione said, pushing him aside. She knocked three times and stepped back, politely waiting for an answer. No one spoke back.

The silence stretched, before Harry spoke up. “I think Professor Dumbledore’s not in his office right now.” He said, “Last time he answered the door like he was standing right next to me.”

Hermione pursed her lips together. “Then we go to Professor McGonagall.” She declared, “Or Professor Flitwick. Someone _must_ be in the staff’s room.”

“Or Snape.” Harry said quietly. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he could trust any of the professors. How could he know who wasn’t teamed up with Quirrell, trying to steal the Stone for eternal life? One thing he could be sure of, however, was that if Quirrell was the one jinxing the Bludger last term, then Snape must had been on his side...and Snape must had known about Quirrell beforehand, “Pretty sure he’s here—out on the Quidditch field, actually. Could Professor Dumbledore be out watching the game?”

“No…” Hermione shook her head, “Actually, I think he wasn’t there for dinner last night either, before we went out for the detention…”

That was true. Harry remembered. He frowned, wondering where Dumbledore could’ve gone to.

“Wait, look!” Ron suddenly said, “The door’s not locked.” He reached out to grab the handle.

“Ron! Don’t be an idiot!” Hermione hissed, “The _last_ thing we need is being seen trespassing into a professor’s office!”

“It won’t hurt.” Ron said, pushing the door open. Harry thought he might had heard both Hermione and Tom sighing at the same time. It was kind of creepy, actually, hearing a voice on the outside echo the voice in your head…it sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione noticed his motion and asked.

“No no, nothing.” Harry shook his head, “Let’s get in there before Ron destroys anything.”

The office was still much of the same state as when Harry was here last time. It was in a, dare he say, chaotic order, and Harry had always loved such a way of organizing massive amount of belongings. It reminded him of Uncle Stephen’s library, and Loki’s studies, and even Tony’s lab in some way. No one was in there—no signs of anything alive except a golden-red bird perched on a golden bird stand. Recognizing He bird, Harry waved: “Hi Fawkes.”

The Phoenix cawed. At the sound, Dreki poked her head out of Harry’s pocket, and squeaked back excitedly. With one finger Harry pushed her back—can’t afford to have anyone seeing her…

“No one’s here.” Hermione whispered as Ron let out a “wow” at the interior designs, “Let’s go!”

“Just a sec—what _is_ that?” Ron pointed to a statue on the shelf, “This is _really cool_.”

“We better get out of here quick.” Harry agreed with Hermione this time, “We need to get to some professor about the Philosopher’s Stone. Remember?”

“Careful what you let out, lad.” A sound suddenly said. Harry whirled around, wide eyed, only to see one of the portraits on the wall opening his eyes: “You don’t know just _what_ might be listening.”

Harry stood, frozen, his friends not much better than him. Another few wizards and witches who had previously been asleep opened their eyes. A few of the portraits started bickering almost at once, but an old lady cleared her throat and everyone quieted down. She was hung quite high up on the wall, and Harry had to raise his head to clearly see her face.

“Hello, boys. And girl.” The old lady said politely, “Good morning, I should say. Are you looking for something here?”

Hermione recovered first. “Yes!” She said, “Do you know where Professor Dumbledore is, ma’am?”

Another portrait answered the question. “He left for London yesterday. Emergency owl from the Ministry.”

 _Oh God no._ Harry thought. Alright, now they really would have to look for another Professor to take care of this. He didn’t even know _who_ he could trust.

“Why do you want to see him?” A third portrait asked.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. Finally Ron stepped up: “We are...”

“ _WHAT are you three doing here?!_ ” The angry voice of Professor McGonagall almost made Harry jump. Turning around wearily, he saw the transfiguration professor standing at the opened door, holding a pile of parchment, looking incredibly angry: “This is _Professor Dumbledore’s office_ , not _some place you can play around_! Thirty points fro—” 

“Minerva, please.” The old lady portrait interrupted, “Let the boy finish explaining why he’s here?”

McGonagall’s mouth snapped shut.

“Professor McGonagall,” Ron said, “Quirrell—I mean, _Professor_ Quirrell is trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone!”

Something cracked on McGonagall’s face at the mention of the Stone. “Nonsense.” She said coldly.

“We saw him _drinking unicorn’s blood_ last night! And he wants to _live forever_!” Ron said, trying to show her sense, “Professor, we need to upgrade the security on the Stone. It’s third floor corridor and—”

Harry saw McGonagall inhale sharply: “I will not ask how you come to know about the Stone, Mr. Weasley.” She said with a tone indicating the calmness before a tsunami of fury, “But you are _NOT_ to go near third floor. If I ever caught you, _any of you_ , there, I will take _fifty points_ off Gryffindor.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “Yes, Miss Granger, _from my own house_. Understand?”

“Professor Quirrell is—”

“And I don’t want to hear another _word_ about Professor Quirrell.” She said sternly, “As Deputy Headmistress I can tell you that he has had a great profile, and no reason whatsoever to act against Hogwarts. Before you _falsely_ accuse him of killing unicorns, maybe you should consider a thing called _respect_.” She paused, “Professor Quirrell has no reason for going after the Philosopher’s Stone either. He is, as a matter of fact, one of the professors asked to set traps protecting the Stone.”

 _That only makes it easier for him to get through_. Tom whispered. _He already know the way to get through Fluffy, then his own part. How many other professors_ _are_ _involved? I bet less than seven._

Ron tried again: “But...”

“This is _final_.” McGonagall said with a tone of absolute finality, “You will _not_ pester any more professors about your unfounded suspicions, Mr. Weasley. Now leave before I actually take that thirty points off Gryffindor.”

“Professor.” Hermione asked quietly, “But you see, if we as three first year students were able to find out about the stone and where to get it, maybe it means that we _do_ need more protection over it?”

McGonagall’s face softened lightly as she turned to Hermione. “As long as the Hogwarts professors are still standing, there is no reason why our trials will fail.” She told them, “But I will alert Professor Dumbledore of your little discovery when he returns. Now go back to your dormitories. Quietly.”

Hermione walked towards the staircase, followed by Ron and Harry. At the great oak door, Harry looked over his shoulder. “Professor McGonagall?” He called out, “Just so you know…someone has already been through the maze before. It really wasn’t as secured as you imagine.”


	29. Chapter 29

They went back to the library after the talk with Professor McGonagall, this time to revise and study for the upcoming final exam. But none of them was really in the mood for studying—not when they’re expecting a unicorn-eating professor to burst into the doors and gain eternal life anyways.

“I don’t know why I’m so worried.” Ron mumbled, “It’s not like this is my business, protecting a bloody stone from a Hogwarts professor...”

“He was eating _unicorns_ , _and_ he attempted to _murder_ me last term.” Harry said, scratching Dreki’s chin distractedly as he stared at his History of Magic textbook, “I would probably be very worried if I have a murderer teacher.”

“Why would Professor Quirrell want to kill Harry though?” Hermione asked, “What _is_ there for him to gain?”

“Dunno.” Ron wrinkled his nose, “Maybe he just didn’t like Harry—who the hell knows. We’re talking about a _dark_ wizard here, Hermione. You can’t judge them by reason.”

Whatever reason there was, Harry was pretty sure it would turn out much more horrific than they can imagine. And also...“I think Snape knows.” He said.

“It’s _Professor_ Snape.” Hermione corrected again, then paused, “Right, since he was trying to un-jinx the Bludger last term…It doesn’t make sense! Why is Professor Quirrell _still_ in the school if Professor Snape knows about the attempt? Hasn’t he told Professor Dumbledore?”

As Hermione asked the questions Harry’s mind started spinning at an extraordinarily fast speed. This actually hadn’t occurred to him before, but it didn’t sound so well…“The only possibility is that Snape _hadn’t_ told Dumbledore.” He said slowly, piecing the possibilities together. Why would Snape choose not to report something like that—something he himself tried to stop—to Dumbledore? Unless he also had something he needed to hide...were they actually both involved then, these two? And then disagreement rose between whether they should kill Harry or not—obviously Quirrell thought he should die and Snape...maybe he thought it wasn’t time. Snape wouldn’t report the attempt to Dumbledore, not yet, because they still had unfinished business with the Stone and can’t afford to be fired. _It made sense_.

But that’s all assuming Dumbledore’s actually on their side and trying to _protect_ the Stone. How do they know if he’s not? Just as Hermione told Professor McGonagall, if three first year students can figure out where the secret hiding place is, the secret hiding place is obviously not very secretive. Then with Tony calling the maze a great exercise for Harry, and the fact that they already had clues as to how to pass through the first trial...What if Dumbledore was just staging everything so that he _himself_ could have the Stone in the end? And both Quirrell and Snape were working for him? If...

God, Harry’s getting a headache.

 _I see you’re finally starting to use your brain._ Tom said drily. _Congratulations, brother_.

 _What’s our plan right now then?_ Harry thought. _Sit here and do nothing?_

 _McGonagall_ _did_ _say don’t go around poking._ Tom said in a very ambiguous fashion.

Harry suddenly had a bad feeling. _Please tell me you’re not wanting that stupid Stone too?_

 _No comment there, though I won’t deny that I am interested in how to create such a powerful artifact._ Tom said—Harry had the impression that Tom would be sticking his tongue out if he had a body. _But the decision’s on you._

 _Why are you—never mind_. Harry thought. _Right, decision’s on me. Here’s my plan: wait for Professor Dumbledore to come back, and sit and study so that I don’t fail my finals._

 _You won’t._ Tom said readily. _I_ _am in your head, after all._

 _No_. Harry thought. _Well, maybe...still no._ With Tom (who admittedly was better at studying than Harry was) and the telepathic link, there’s no way Harry wouldn’t get a hundred percent on all his tests. But then that would be cheating. And then Harry wouldn’t really learn anything from his classes. _And_ there was the fact that Tony could always _always_ tell who was the one answering the questions. Even though now the person teaching him was no longer Dad...still no.

 _Your loss_.

Harry buried his head into the book, his phone right by his hand. Honestly, technology is _such_ a huge aid in his revisions—dragging words of importance and events out of the holographic projections, sorting out the chronologic order, and above all helping him to visualize the scenes. Harry really missed Stark Tower though—however advanced his phone was made to be, it still couldn’t rival the projector-and-sensor-covered rooms back in New York.

As lunch time came, still none of the three was in the right mood to show up in the Great Hall, surrounded by all their fellow housemates _who_ _knew nothing about all the terrible things happening in the school_. Somewhere in a book, Harry had read the quote that “ignorance is bliss,” and he’s seriously starting to think that was true.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Ron suggested, “Grab some food and eat in the yard.”

“You know where the kitchen is?” Hermione asked.

“Yea, the one good thing about having five brothers.” Ron made a face, “Is that you get to know a lot of secret places in the school before you even enrol. Especially Fred and George, but I think your dad out-beat them in finding secret passages. Come on.”

According to Ron, the kitchen was directly below the Great Hall, close to the Hufflepuff basement. As the three followed Ron across the corridor, Harry saw numerous paintings hanging on the wall, mostly various drawings of foods. He wondered briefly if characters from other paintings could come over and eat the food…

“See that pear?” Ron pointed at a painting of a fruit bowl, “If you tickle it it’ll turn into a doorknob.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked skeptically, “Fred and George _did_ feed you a lot of bullshit…”

“They won’t kid about food.” Ron said solemnly, “Not within family, at least. That became a rule after one time the thing they told Percy to eat sent him straight to Saint Mungo. Those were actually good times.” He sighed, “Even though I hate being pranked on, hair colour turning food had always been fun.”

Harry tried to recall the last time he pranked on Uncle Thor’s dinner. Literally _nothing_ ever worked—Thor could eat _anything_ and _everything_ without so much as frowning. Oh well, so much for food pranks. Harry thought about putting some colouring pills in Thor’s food next time—maybe _that_ would have an effect. He _had_ loved it every time Papa magicked Uncle Thor’s hair pink or green after all.

“Pear, pear, pear…here we are.” Ron reached out to tickle the pear. To Harry’s absolute amazement, it did giggle, and a second later it turned into a green door handle. _We should have more stuff like this at home_ , he thought.

 _Tickly_ _pears??_ Tom asked, aghast. _Please don’t. We really don’t need more abominations in the tower_.

Ron pushed open the door and walked in, Hermione trailing after him. Harry went in last. Inside was an enormous room lit by a huge fireplace, approximately the same size as the Great Hall. On the walls hung hundreds of pans and plates, and there were five tables in the room, exact same positions as the House Tables and the Head Table. _There must had been some connection between those tables and the tables in the Great Hall_ , Harry thought, amused. _Maybe when you put something here, it gets automatically teleported up there?_

But what was more of a shock was the short, little creatures running around in the kitchen. They were as short as goblins, with eyes big as tennis balls and huge huge _huge_ ears. And they were literally wearing rag. Among them Harry was surprised to see Draco—of all places, what is _he_ doing here?

At the sound of their approach, Draco turned, seemingly to be surprised by Harry’s presence. “Harry. Weasley, Granger.” He nodded to the other two, “What are you doing here?”

“Food, obviously.” Ron answered. Just as he spoke, one of the small creatures dashed towards them, and when it spoke its voice was incredibly high: “Sirs! Would you like anything?”

“Yes.” Ron answered—because both Harry and Hermione were too dumbfounded to say anything, “Three servings for lunch—anything would be fine, really. Oh, and a bowl of grapes, please.”

“Anything for you, sirs!” The creature shrieked and ran away. Harry’s gaze followed it, until it disappeared into a crowd of creatures similar to itself.

“What the _hell_ are these?” He asked, feeling a bit dizzy. Another kind of magical creature that fits nowhere into his taste.

“House elves.” Ron answered, “They work here in the kitchen. Cook and clean and everything.”

“I’m surprised you know about house elves, Weasley.” Draco said, amused, “You see, we still have a few of those in the Malfoy manor, but I doubt if the Weasley family still has any.”

“I _read_.” Ron sulked. Harry had to suppress his urge to argue how untrue that is.

“But they are…” Hermione blinked, “They’re servants?”

Draco looked at her. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Granger.” He said dismissively, “It’s their job to serve the wizards.”

“What are _you_ doing in the kitchen, Malfoy?” Ron asked.

Draco shrugged. “Food. And also to see one of my house-elves—Dad put him here because he annoys us so much at home.” He turned to Harry, “Where did you guys go? You just… _disappeared_ after dinner yesterday. You weren’t at breakfast, not even at the Quidditch games!”

The three of them exchanged a glance. _Should we tell him?_ Harry debated in his head. _Is it fair to pull someone else into all this mess?_

“What?” Draco frowned as the silence stretched, “ _What_ are you hiding?”

It surprised Harry when Hermione decided to speak up first. “Well, there was this detention, where we, um, found out some stuff.” She said, then stopped herself there. It was going to be a long story if they were to explain everything clearly. Harry thought a bit, then summarized: “We discovered that the Philosopher’s Stone—yes, that exact one—is kept in Hogwarts. It’s hidden on the third floor, in that place Dumbledore warned everyone against at the start of the term. Quirrell is after the Stone. Oh, and he’s a unicorn-eater, as we saw last night during the detention.”

Draco blinked. “I’m prone to call that nonsense.” He said slowly, “But then it’s _you_ we’re talking about, and everything around you sums up to ‘nonsense.’”

“If only Professor McGonagall understands it like that too!” Ron groaned.

“You’ve told a professor?” Draco asked, “That’s good. Leave it to the hands of the professionals. What does that have to do with you not showing up for breakfast or Quidditch though?”

“More happened last night.” Hermione told him, “A centaur showed up to give us really weird prophecies, and we were in the library trying to decipher them.”

“Prophecies?” Draco frowned, “Centaurs don’t give prophecies...”

“More like warning.” Harry wrinkled his nose, “Anyways, Hermione has what we interpreted out of that. And there also was the fact that after last night, none of us really want to meet with Qu—”

“Ah, good afternoon. Down in the kitchen...a interesting choice.”

_Speaking of the devil._

For a second Harry felt his blood flow stop, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Hermione freezing mid-motion as she was taking out that piece of parchment. His body kicked into action before his brain did, and before he turned around his repulsor was ready to shoot.

Professor Quirrell, standing at the door into the kitchen, paid no notice to the shiny thing on Harry’s hand. “Well.” He said, a smile creeping onto his face, “What are we discussing here, in this...secret meeting place?”

Harry noticed that Quirrell wasn’t stammering anymore. Instead, his voice took on a croaked tone, and it sounded a bit like he was rasping. And hissing, actually—the strange sound made the hair on Harry’s neck stand. A dull burning sensation rose up in him, and Harry swallowed. It seemed that the Eternal Flames did always have a strange reaction around Quirrell.

“Professor, sir, we’re just getting food.” Ron answered.

“Of course! Well, Ah, there’s something I wish to tell you. You should all be careful about...” Quirrell pointed a finger at Hermione, and the parchment she was holding suddenly floated high into the air. Hermione gasped, her belongings falling to the ground. “...what rumors you spread around the school. Not everyone has a temper as nice as mine, don’t you think?”

The parchment bursted into bright green flames, and Ron inhaled audibly. Harry’s attention, however, was not on the burning parchment. Quirrell’s movements all looked stiff, strangely so, as if he was not in full control of his own limbs, just like how he was moving around in that zombie-like fashion last night. It was creepy, and reminded Harry of a horror movie he had watched when he was young, where everyone in the world turned into puppet zombies that were controlled by aliens. It was all quite scary.

 _WHY, in the name of Valhalla, are you thinking about THAT?_ Tom asked. _Do you have any idea that you just ruined the whole mood for me??_

 _Er._ Harry replied very articulately.

“Another fair warning,” Quirrell said, a croaked expression on his face, “Don’t go around poking your noses into places you shouldn’t be in—people might think you’re...” He focused onto Harry, who suddenly felt dizzy, “...up to something.”

No one replied this time.

“Mr. Malfoy, I wasn’t expecting you to mix with those people...” Quirrell said—hissed—quietly, “And you, Mr. Potter, did no one tell you pointing is very rude?”

Harry debated just shooting Quirrell in the face and get the hell over with this—except he’s not sure if repulsor blasts can kill wizards. From what he could tell, they would need at least a uni-beam attack to die...

“Sirs!” A sharp voice suddenly said, drawing everyone’s attention. A house elf was holding a plate three times the size of its body, eyes wide: “Your food is ready, sirs! And your letter too, Mr. Malfoy! It has been sent!”

“Thank you.” Hermione smiled at it and bent down to take the tray.

The house elf squeaked, its ears flapping in excitement. “Miss Granger said thank you to Killy! Miss Granger said _thank you_ to Killy! You are very welcomed, Miss Granger!” It bowed deeply before jogging back to join the other house elves.

Harry refocused his attention onto Quirrell, and found how, strangely, the professor managed to change demeanour in the matter of seconds they weren’t looking. It was as if someone pulled all the bones out of his body. Quirrell’s eyes were wide, his pupil dilated, and he scanned the four students, seemingly confused and even alarmed. “Wha-what are yo-you do-doing here? Wh-where am-am…oh.” It looked like he suddenly realized something, then he turned around and limped towards the door. Harry watched him walk away, mind turning slowly as he tried to make sense of whatever the hell just happened.

 _It looks like_ , Tom said slowly, _this guy has multiple personalities. Two faced—funny, huh._

 _It makes sense now._ Harry thought. _The_ _normal_ _Quirrell just want the Stone. The psychopath Quirrell wants me_ _dead_ _. For no reason. Because he’s a_ _psychopath_ _._

“Dumbledore isn’t here today.” After a brief period of silence Hermione suddenly bursted out.

“Reckon he’s going to try it tonight?” Ron asked, “Professor McGonagall didn’t believe us, and obviously she just told Quirrell about our talk. What the hell do we do now?”

“Well, that’s it.” Harry decided, “New plan. _We_ , are getting the Stone _first_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter killed me. Literally. I tried to rewrite it three times this week, didn't work at all, so what I'm posting is the original version. Apparently I'm not a good enough writer to stray too far away from the original plot.......


	30. Chapter 30

Once they had shared all their experience with Draco, the blond boy insisted on joining the plan the three Gryffindors had. Ron opposed the possibility firmly.

“You’re NOT coming, Malfoy.” He said, crossing his arms, “First of all you’re Slytherin. How are you going to sneak out at night? You don’t even have a Cloak of Invisibility.”

Harry hated to break it but Draco’s indignant expression looked exactly the same as Ron’s. “Why, pray tell, are we doing it _at night_ then? Isn’t it the earlier the better?”

“That’s when I’m least likely to be discovered.” Harry stated, “And it’s _me_ that’s going down. _You_ are not.”

“We are all going.” Hermione said sternly, “Don’t think for a second we’ll let you go alone, Harry!”

“It’s _dangerous_ , and you might get _expelled_.” Harry shot back. That was the _one_ thing that might get Hermione to back down.

“Not very dangerous if your dad said it’s a great exercise for you.” Ron commented, turning away from his argument with Draco: “And if we get expelled we do it _together_.”

“Yes, _Captain_ , but we don’t have an alien army invading Earth right now, and _no one_ is dying.” Harry said, “I can do it on my own. Perfectly fine.”

“Same argument.” Hermione said, the same time Ron asked, confused: “What army?” Harry didn’t have the mood to explain the story to Ron.

Draco countered: “My father can make sure we don’t get expelled. He’s on the Board of Governors.”

It felt weird to have all three of his friends teaming up against him. Harry thought it must had been the same feeling when Dad insisted on Uncle Jim not interfering with that whole SHIELD debacle.

 _They won’t go away, you know._ Tom said. _They’ve gone_ _this_ _far—they are going to get involved no matter_ _what_ _. Unless you memory charmed them all. Which I doubt is a better choice._

 _This is diving_ _headfirst_ _into danger. Quirrell is apparently a double-personality lunatic, and guess what his baddie side would do to us if he finds out?_ Harry argued. _None of the teachers are on our side either._

“Harry—damn it, talk to me!” Hermione’s hiss broke Harry’s thoughts. “We are coming, Harry, and that’s _final_.”

 _You know, sometimes she_ _really_ _sounds like Professor McGonagall._ Tom chuckled.

Harry opened his mouth.

“You think there’s any chance we’re missing out the fun?” Draco leaned closer, eyes staring at Harry intensely, “Don’t be a reckless idiot.”

Harry puffed. There was no way he could win this argument. “Alright, alright.” He finally sighed, “My Cloak covers three people, but I have my own illusions, so it’d be fine. Draco, you’re coming into the Gryffindor common room if you want to go—we’ll sneak out when everyone’s asleep.”

Draco looked between aghast and satisfied. “Fine.” He finally said, “Going with you after dinner.”

“What are we going to do to the Stone after we get it?” Hermione asked, “If Professor Dumbledore’s not back yet, wouldn’t it be more vulnerable for it to remain in our hands?”

“That reminds me something.” Harry tilted his head, “Before we go on an adventure…I do need to call someone first.”

***

“You are telling me that, this _lunatic of a professor_ has _already_ tried to _murder_ you _twice_ last term, and you didn’t even _think_ of mentioning it to me.”

 _Twice?_ Harry thought dizzily, but he didn’t have the time to question about that particular wording right now. The flatter Tony’s tone was, the more nervous Harry got. He was expecting Dad to get mad, but he seemed to have underestimated just how mad he was going to be. “I’m telling you now?” Harry ventured out.

“Because you’re planning to do something even _more stupid_.” Tony raised an eyebrow, “Should I be glad that you thought of calling me before going??”

“You should.” Harry said immediately.

 _With the way you talk, it’s a miracle no one has killed you yet_. Tom mumbled.

 _No one has killed Dad either._ Harry replied grumpily. _I took after_ _him_.

Tony ran a hand through his hair and groaned. It was obvious that Tony just got up from bed, even though it was already three pm in the States, and his hair got messier the more he play with it unconsciously.

Harry glanced at the clock. “Dad,” He said sincerely,and urgently, “I’m telling you my plan right now, because that’s what we agreed upon, right? Always tell the family about what we’re up to? We’re going down the maze today, and hopefully get the Stone before Quirrell has a chance. It won’t be difficult, we won’t be stupid, and I’m ringing you again when I get out of there. No need to worry. Then I’ll send the Stone to Uncle Stephen for safe-keeping, then we’ll wait until Dumbledore get back.”

Tony set his chin on his hands. “What about the crazy guy?”

“Then we’ll talk and sort out about Quirrell’s threat and attempt of murder. I mean, I think with all that stuff we can get him fired if we have enough evidence.” Harry said, then added as an afterthought, “Hopefully no one dies in the meantime.”

Tony’s lips curled up. But still, he didn’t answer.

Harry looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m not going to change my plan, Dad. Say something?”

“It’s... _mildly_ acceptable.” Tony said slowly, “But I don’t like the part where you’ll be staying in this school, with a teacher whose secondary personality has been sending you death-threats, waiting for another irresponsible teacher to come back. You know what, I’m coming over to deal with that asshole.” He said, standing up, “I’ll be there once I sort out some government stuff and get Strange to pick me up.”

“Great.” Harry beamed, “Excellent timing, because we’re preparing to leave in ten minutes.”

Tony sent him a look. “I should’ve known you’re only telling me last minute…” He said, amused, “…so that I won’t be able to call you off.”

“That’s what _you_ always do, Dad.” Harry smirked, “Like father, like son?”

“No sass, Harry.” Tony warned. “Alright, I’m gonna try and give you a head-start here...A few things I remember from last time.” Tony said, thinking back, “Er, most of the levels you can cheat through, like flying over whatever’s in the middle and then kick down the door with your fire power. Some of the doors weren’t even locked. There’s a trapdoor behind the first big door, and weird tentacle creatures down there, but if you keep flying the plant wouldn’t be able to reach you. Can’t remember what happened in the other rooms, but pretty sure there’s one where you have to catch a stupid flying key. Or if you’re Loki you can just walk through the goddamn wall. None of them were too dangerous though—I would even say pretty easy to pass. Oh, and don’t try portalling in. Loki said the maze exists on a different plane and I don’t think you’ve gotten that far with your training yet. He said it was quite impressive for mortals to accomplish that. That means communication wouldn’t work either, even the enchanted phones.” Tony paused, “Thinking of which, how come your headmaster hides such an important object in a place like _that_? It’s obvious that the maze is designed to be _passed_.”

“That’s exactly what Tom and I have been wondering about.” Harry replied, “At least if we can get through, I’ll have the evidence to tell Professor McGonagall that the security level around the Stone is _truly_ too low.” He complained, “It would be more secured to just toss the damn Stone in your lab!”

“Hey!” Tony glared at Harry, instantly getting what he was implying, “My lab is _NOT_ messy.”

“Says the person who couldn’t find a wrench three times a day.” Harry countered blatantly, then stood up, “Time for me to go now—bye Dad!”

Tony huffed. “Best of luck, buddy.” He said as Harry crawled out of his little hiding space behind the fireplace, “Don’t do anything I won’t do. Meeting you in a few hours.”

Harry ended call and stuffed his phone away. Dreki was incredibly energetic tonight, insisting on perching on his shoulder instead of sleeping in his pocket. Harry stroke his smooth scale and thought about everything he needed. He had tried to alert a professor, so checkmark for that. He had alerted someone else before going out and doing something dangerous—even though he doubted it would be dangerous—and checkmark that as well. Now he just needed to…

His phone buzzed again and Harry looked up to check the old clock on the wall. Eleven thirty. About time.

“What did your dad say?” Hermione whispered once he surfaced in common room. She was hiding under the Cloak of Invisibility with Draco and Ron, but Harry could still tell where she was by the sound.

“Best of luck and don’t do anything he won’t do.” Harry quoted, “Which basically means we should do whatever we want.”

“What?” Ron asked, clearly confused.

“You know what my dad’s like.” Harry said as he reached into his suit-suitcase. There’s just one more step before they could leave…Harry shrugged the armour on, letting it crawl across his body. He was careful to leave the Sling Ring hanging on his neck too—even though Dad had said it wouldn’t work in the maze, it might turn out useful in the end. Finally, he shrouded himself in invisibility, and was good to go.

“Woah, you’re _really_ skilled.” Ron whispered, “I can’t see you at all!”

“It’s not like the word ‘Invisibility’ have any other definitions.” Harry made a face, then remembered his friends couldn’t see him. “Right, let’s go then.”

“We can’t see you.” Hermione asked, a bit worried, “And you can’t see us. What if something happens and we just don’t know where each other is?”

Harry considered that. “What about this, I’ll call out every two minutes, and if you don’t answer I’ll assume you’re in trouble? Same thing for me—if I don’t call out, call for me and if I don’t answer, go straight to Professor McGonagall?”

Hermione made a sound that clearly meant she didn’t like the plan. But she agreed in the end. “Alright.” She said, “Let’s go then.”


	31. Chapter 31

They walked slowly, with Hermione whispering a _Quietus_ every two seconds to cover up their footsteps—especially Harry’s, since he was walking around with _metal_ boots on. As it turned out, not knowing where each other is was probably the last thing they needed to worry about.

No one was out there at night. Harry listened very carefully for the sound of Filch walking around, or even Miss Norris, but there was nothing. Dreki perched on his shoulder plates, little wings stretched out, looking alarmed and extremely adorable. Harry was sort of glad that none of his friends scolded him for bringing Dreki on this quest…

As they walked up to the third floor, they encountered the first living creature tonight. Well, living wasn’t exactly accurate, seeing how it was Peeves loosening the carpet on the stair to trip student.

Peeves looked up suddenly as they started to climb the stairs. “Who’s there?” He asked, “Know you’re there, even if I can’t see you. Ghoulie or ghosty or weeeeeee student beastie?”

Harry paused in his steps. He had the distinct feeling that Hermione caught her breath.

“Should call Filch.” Peeves continued as he rose up in the air, “if something’s creeping around unseen…”

Harry suddenly remembered something. “Peeves.” He said, “The Prince of Jotunheim asks you to _shut up_.” Not sure about whether it was enough to identify himself, Harry released some of his magic into the air. It glowed green, tracing out the vague shape of a person.

Silence. Peeves almost fell out of air in surprise, and only caught himself last second. “The Jotun Prince! The Messenger of the _God of Mischief_!” He squeaked, “Of course, sir, of course! I am your lord’s most devoted follower! So sorry old Peeves has disturbed you, your highness.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. _Messenger_ _of the God of Mischief? Where does that title come from??_ He wondered, speaking again: “I have business here tonight. Leave and do not come back.”

“Of course, of course! Hope your business all go well!” Peeves shrieked, floating away. He was singing as he floated down the stairs: “The Messenger! The messenger of the gods! Here he comes—”

Harry watched Peeves went away, releasing his control over the green mist.

“Good job, Harry. You _will_ be explaining to me what the heck you just did there.” Draco whispered, “And Weasley, will you stop clenching my sleeves like a nervous three years old girl?”

“ _I_ ’ _m not!_ ” Ron hissed. He must had been struggling under the cloak, as the image around them became slightly distorted.

“Let’s move on.” Hermione said, tugging at the cloak. It moved about, again, like water did, before the image calmed down.

They sneaked through the corridor, and Harry sucked in a breath when he saw the wooden lock gone and the door to the secret maze slightly opened.

 _God_ , _are we actually_ _late_ _??_ He thought desperately. _Quirrell_ ’ _s already gone through??_

 _We might catch him just in time._ Tom said quietly. _But that would mean an epic battle. Which no one signed up for._

Harry groaned mentally. _Shit_ ’ _s hitting the fan._

“That looks bad.” Draco said, concerned, clearly thinking the same thing as Harry, “Could Quirrell have already gotten the Stone?”

“We’re checking anyways.” Harry said firmly, dropping his invisibility. He turned to his friends. “Alright, so something more complicated turned up—obviously. I know you all signed up to go through the maze with me and get the Stone, but now we have the possibility that a crazy wizard could actually be waiting down there for us. Waiting to kill us, more specifically. If you want to go back now, I urge you to go.”

“No way we’re leaving.” Ron replied immediately.

“Let’s go in.” Draco said, coming out from under the cloak.

Harry pushed the door open. There it was, the vicious three headed dog, awake and growling. Harry spotted something purple under its paws, and thought it looked like the remains of a harp. _So it wakes up instantly when you stop playing music_ , he thought to himself.

“We need to play music to it.” Hermione said, then frowned, “Er, is any of us a good singer?”

Ron was shaking his head madly and Draco looked flabbergasted—disgusted by the sheer idea of singing, or maybe it was singing in front of three Gryffindors. Harry almost face-palmed himself. Right, they forgot to bring any musical instrument—the _one thing_ that’s the most important. He noted that when Tony was recounting his experience he actually didn’t talk about a lullaby-needing dog…was it not here before?

Then Harry remembered that he was actually wearing his suit! Which meant suit speaker even though he didn’t have a helmet, which meant _music_. But Harry himself hadn’t started downloading other songs onto the server yet, which implied…Harry dragged a little blue hologram out of his gloves, and yep. There were only AC/DC songs.

“Does it matter what music?” Harry asked, confirming.

“Give it a try either way.” Hermione stared at the dog nervously. It was sniffing in the air, and turning his three heads towards their direction. That couldn’t be good—Harry needed to hurry up.

“Alright.” Harry mumbled, and selected the song his father had loved the most.

And sound bursted through his speakers: “ _All you women who want a man of the street/But you don't know which way you want to turn…_ ”

Dreki jumped and squeaked at a frightened pitch. Harry didn’t have time to notice that she was flapping her little wings and _flying_ for the first time because he was too busy trying to locate the volume control on his suit. “Ouch!” Ron covered up his ears, as Hermione desperately screamed a “ _Quietus!_ ” Draco’s eyes darted around nervously as he hissed: “HARRY STARK-LOKASON, ARE YOU FUCKING _MAD_?! THE WHOLE _SCHOOL_ IS GOING TO HEAR US!!!”

“Sorry!” Harry was trying every button he remembered how to use—he had _no idea_ at all where the volume switch could be. Heck, he wasn’t expecting the song to be set at max-volume the first time it plays either! Then, AC/DC songs had always been quite loud too…

 _I_ ’ _m blaming all this on Dad._ Harry thought sulkily as he finally found the right thing to turn.

Tom _laughed_.

As the music finally began playing at a bearable volume, Ron pointed to Fluffy. “Look!” He exclaimed incredulously, “Bloody hell, it’s actually asleep?! That was an anti-lullaby if there was ever one, and it _fell asleep listening to that?!!!_ ”

“What kind of weird creature is this?!” Draco’s eyes widened as well, still covering his ears, “That song can _wake the goddamn dead_.”

“I can’t believe it either.” Harry said, “Please, no one tells Dad this. Or he’s going to pick another theme song that’s even louder, noisier, and _more_ headache-inducing.”

“That’s the trapdoor there.” Hermione pointed at the door near where the dog lied.

They tiptoed towards the trapdoor—even though honestly it would make no difference with _Shoot to Thrill_ still playing on Harry’s mic. Ron pulled the trapdoor open and peered down.

“Can’t see the bottom.” He reported back, “It doesn’t look like there’s a staircase either. Hermione, wanna go first?”

Hermione shook her head frantically.

“Alright.” Ron said, “I’m going.”

“Wait!” Harry called, “Actually, no one’s jumping down. Dad told me that there’s a weird tentacle plant right underneath the trapdoor, but we can avoid it if we fly.”

“How do we fly though? Levitating Charm?” Hermione asked.

“I can carry you guys down, one by one.” Harry wrinkled his nose, “Unless you’re willing to try out that tentacle creature?”

“No.” Ron answered, “But _YOU_ , Harry, are _NOT_ carrying me again.”

Harry crossed his arms. “You’d rather trust magic from—excuse me— _a couple of first year students_ instead of the most awesome Stark technology.”

Ron made a face. “Maybe not, but I trust _Hermione_.”

Harry was pretty sure he saw Hermione blush.

“Alright then.” He decided, “I’ll leave a piece here to continue playing the music, then I’ll carry Draco first, Hermione second, and you guys float Ron down. Sounds like a plan?”

The three nodded.

“Great.” Harry opened his palm. His glove detached itself and flew towards Fluffy, continuing playing the music right by its ears. It was quite a miracle, to be honest, how Fluffy was able to sleep with that noise. Maybe anything with a tune could be classified as music in its book...

Turning to Draco, Harry warned: “Cling on tight, in case something happens and I need my hand thrusters to keep balance.”

Draco nodded. He didn’t even look nervous! Harry reached out to grab him, then shot up in the air.

Draco yelped at the sudden movement, and his arm tightened around Harry. _Alright_ , _so he was nervous after all_ , Harry thought, turning around and shooting straight down into the trapdoor.

It took only a few seconds to reach the bottom, and Harry halted midair as his sensor detected the ground underneath. In the glow of his repulsors, Harry could see some sort of plant sprawled underneath them, recoiling whenever light was shone on them. Creepy, he thought.

“Now I get why Weasley don’t want you to carry him down.” Draco suddenly said. Harry turned his head to peer at Draco out of the corner of his eyes—it was kind of hard when their body was literally locked together, but Harry saw how the boy was even paler than he usually was—and made a face: “Welp, Iron Man armour aren’t used to take two people, you know.”

“I could’ve _ride_ you.” Draco complained.

“That can only happen after at least three dates.” Harry replied immediately. He felt like he had heard this conversation somewhere—ah, right. When Papa was invading the Tower, he told Dad to kneel, and the latter replied with a cocky smile: “you haven’t bought me dinner yet.” That conversation ended with Dad being thrown out of the window.

Draco did not reply. After a second Harry said, pouting: “Oh come _on_ , Draco, you know I’m joking.” He flew around slowly in circle, “I think I see an exit there...”

“Wait.” Draco said, “Can we go closer? I want to see what the plants are.”

“Sure thing.” Harry controlled himself to float three foot off the ground. Draco peered down, and upon seeing the tentacles that were waving around his eyes widened: “I think these are Devil’s Snares.”

“What?” Harry looked down as well. With that dim light, he could see absolutely nothing and even less recognizing the plant as Devil’s Snare. But he decided to trust Draco’s observation. “Alright, so we know the name of the thing. That’s very helpful, thanks.”

Draco shot him a glare, reaching into his robe, at the same time Tom huffed in Harry’s head: _Fire_ , _idiot_ , _fire!_

“ _Incendio_.” Draco cried, and flames shot out from the end of his wand. The plant shrunk in an instant, recoiling into the corner of the chamber.

 _Right. Fire. Forgot again._ Harry thought.

Ron yelled from above: “Harry? Malfoy? How is it?”

“Coming back up!” Harry yelled back, dropping Draco on the ground. The latter smiled smugly, keeping his fire steady. Harry pouted again. “Alright, Draco, you win this round.” He said, shooting back up.

Hermione and Ron were still waiting up there. “What’s down there?” Hermione asked the second Harry surfaced.

“Devil’s Snare.” Harry answered, “Draco’s holding them off. Come on, Hermione.” Before he decided to take off, Harry paused, “Actually, do you mind some high speed roller coaster?”

“No.” Hermione blinked, “Why do you ask?”

Ten seconds later, Hermione was standing on the floor next to Draco, giggles bubbling out of her. Her hair was a mess with all the travel in high speed, and her face was flushing with excitement. “That’s really fun, Harry!” She exclaimed, “I never dreamt I would get on an Iron Man roller coaster.”

Harry turned to Draco. “See? That’s exactly how we _muggles_ are like.” He grinned widely.

Draco ignored him. “Weasley!” He called, “You can jump.”

 _You jump_ , _I jump._ Tom chanted.

Ron followed the instruction immediately. Hermione yelled a “ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ” and Ron slowed down, landing softly on the floor. He scanned the chamber, and the first words he said were “We must be miles under the castle.”

“We’re on a completely different plane, so it’s kind of hard to tell.” Harry said, summoning his gauntlet. It whirled down from above, and reattached to Harry’s arm. Followed by a squeak, Dreki reappeared perching on the gauntlet.

“Let’s move on.” Hermione urged, “We don’t have time to lose.”


	32. Chapter 32

The second room they got into contained birds—hundreds of birds. Except they’re not birds. After some observation they saw these were keys withwings.

“So that’s the stupid flying keys we have to catch.” Harry said, squinting to see all the keys, “What. The. Actual. Fuck.”

Even Hermione was too distracted to yell “language” at him.

“I’m finding this really stupid.” Draco said with a tone even more blatant than Harry’s, “If you lock something away, you _keep the key to yourself_. You don’t _put them in the air_ and _attach wings_ to them. And play _Hide and Seek_.”

“And have a broomstick ready for us to use.” Ron pointed at the wall. Sure thing, two broomsticks hung on the wall, ready for them to use.

“I have the distinct feeling that we’re walking into a trap.” Draco said, frowning, “Did each professor set up a trial for us to pass through? First Hagrid’s dog, second Professor Spout’s plant, now Professor...Flitwick?”

“From what we know, Quirrell also has a hand in one of the trials. Probably McGonagall too.” Harry responded, “Oh, I see the key. That one, the blue winged one—its feathers look like it’s been grabbed recently.”

“Does _Alohomora_ not work on the lock?” Hermione asked, pointing her wand at the lock, “ _Alohomora_!”

Nothing happened.

“I wish I’ve learned _Accio_ already.” Harry mused, “Then I could just go _Accio Key!_ and get it. Who wants to play Seeker this round?”

“Me. Because I’m the best.” Draco said, walking towards the broomsticks, “I’ve been practicing Quidditch a lot at home.”

Ron huffed, but didn’t say anything.

“Alright. I’ll block its side and you catch it.” Harry took off the same time Draco climbed onto the broomstick, “Three, two, one—go!”

Draco really was skilled at flying, being able to swirl and turn sharply even at extremely high speed. Admittedly, even Harry didn’t think he could do it if he were on a broomstick—even in flying lesson they were only allowed to go ten meters above ground, and Harry soon lost interest in the sport in favour of his suit. He dived towards the key and it halted to sway out of his way, only to crash head first into Draco’s hand. “Got it!” The blond boy yelled, holding up the key triumphantly.

He landed, and forced the key into the key hole. It turned successfully. The key tried to fly off the second Draco let go, but Harry snatched it mid air.

“I’m keeping this.” He smirked, “Dreki, catch!”

The little dragon squeaked and clung onto the key. The poor thing froze in Dreki’s mouth, not daring to move, and Dreki landed on Harry’s shoulder again.

“Ready?” Hermione asked, pushing open the door. They didn’t get a corridor this time—the door opened directly into the next chamber. It was a huge hall, with ceiling higher than Harry could see, and the second Ron stepped into the room torches lit up, illuminating the room. Harry was amazed to see a huge chessboard, with eight feet tall chess pieces carved out of stone.

“Professor McGonagall’s.” Draco noted, “Now what?”

“We play, obviously.” Ron said, staring at the board.

Harry frowned. “Hold him for me.” He passed Dreki to Hermione, then climbed up onto the board and tried to walk across. The white pawns shot up, lifting its swords and shields to block him, and Hermione yelped distantly at the sound of sharp edges clashing. Harry cocked his head, then remembering what Tony had said, he lifted himself up into the air. Eerily, the faceless chess pieces all looked up; some waved their weapon about, but they couldn’t reach him.

“Well, I guess that’s what Dad called ‘cheating through.’” Harry said drily, keeping his altitude as he flew across, then landed on the other side. The white chessmen all turned to him, marching in his direction, but Harry noticed that they couldn’t step down the chess board. He turned the knob on the door, and found it unlocked. “It’s not locked!” Harry yelled across the hall.

“How are we getting across?” Hermione yelled back. Her voice was muffled with the distance it was traveling through.

“I can carry you one by one, but let me try something first.” Harry said. He needed to test another theory. He reached out and swung the door wide open.

As the door open, the fidgeting chessmen all halted their motion. Harry turned around to focus on them, catching his breath. One by one, the white pieces walked back to their original spot, then froze up and turned to stone again.

Harry couldn’t help the wide grin growing on his face. He knew it! As Professor Quirrell traveled through the rooms one by one, he inevitably left traces—the harp under Fluffy’s feet, and the key whose feathers were all crumpled on one side. Devil’s Snare would grow back the instant you take the fire away as well. So how was it possible that all the chess pieces here are intact? Harry had seen how chessmen smash each other on wizardry chess boards—it was quite a waste of game pieces, honestly, but the pieces _were_ the cheapest components in a chess set; even Ron kept a whole box of them for replacement—and figured Quirrell couldn’t possibly had _played_ through this trial. Therefore, two possibilities remained—either Quirrell didn’t pass this round, which was improbably, or there’s a backdoor. Harry was betting on the second.

He was actually quite glad that his first guess—opening the door to the next trial automatically disables the traps in this chamber—worked out. Otherwise Harry would have to try shooting missile at the chess pieces. That could cause a mess, and definitely more time than they had.

Actually following the rules and playing a chess game to pass? Honestly, it just never crossed his mind.

“Should be safe now!” Harry yelled, and whirled around to face the next chamber. Instantly his eyes widened, and he took a step back involuntarily.

Ron was the first to dart across. “That’s brilliant, mate.” He said, “Saved tons of time for us—AHH! What _is_ that!!” He yelled, stumbling back and stepping on Hermione. Draco pushed Ron up, eyebrows knitted, until he also looked into the room and saw the lying form on the floor. A troll. Of all things, this chamber contained a _troll_. It appeared to be unconscious, and there was a huge bump was on its head.

 _The one thing that Dad forgot to talk about._ Tom said slowly.

Harry was speechless.

“This should be Professor Quirrell’s protection.” Hermione said quietly, “I’m thinking he might had let the troll in on Halloween as well…”

“Ugh, I can’t breath in here.” Draco complained, covering his face with his sleeves, “Either way, we don’t have to deal with it now and I’m immensely glad.”

That was true. As the same team that was confronted with another troll in the same school year, none of them wanted to experience another game of _Tag_ with a troll.

“I need to thank Quirrell for knocking it out for us.” Harry mumbled, walking around the body of the beast. The next door was plain in sight, and Harry pushed it open. Another unlocked door.

“Let’s go.” Hermione whispered.

They passed through a long stone corridor before they came to a room with a table standing in the middle. Another doorway was visible on the other side, leading to who knows where. On the table was seven differently shaped and sized bottles.

“Potions. Snape’s.” Harry said quietly, hoping Snape would make it easy for them. But then he probably shouldn’t be thinking this way either—the trial being easier for them only means it being easier for Quirrell to pass as well.

The second the four stepped across the threshold into the room, flames appeared and blocked the doorways: purple behind, black in front.

Hermione hurried towards the table and picked up a piece of parchment. Suddenly her eyes brightened, and she made a excited squeak.

“What is it?” Harry asked, “Hold it up, ’Mione.”

Hermione held the parchment up for everyone to see. “It’s logic, Harry!” She said excitedly, “Logic, not magic. This is _brilliant!_ Lots of the greatest wizards haven’t an ounce of logic in them, and they’d be stuck here _forever_.”

Harry read the lines written on the parchment. “It doesn’t sound that hard.” He observed, “Takes some thinking, but definitely solvable.” He glanced at the bottles again, “The one on the right end should get us back.”

Draco looked up, dazed. “How do you get that so fast?” He demanded.

“I feel like I don’t know English anymore.” Ron said faintly.

“It’s called practice.” Harry stuck out a tongue. “You know how sometimes parents play games with kids with the intention to lose just to humour them? Well, mine don’t. Never did. Catching up was quite hopeless, but I did manage to learn _something_ from them.”

 _Glad those games have been paying off._ Tom said, amused.

“You see, _they_ are the hopeless ones here.” Hermione giggled before walking up towards the bottle. After muttering some words to herself and walking up and down the line a couple times, she also solved the puzzle. “The smallest bottle will get us through.” She announced.

Draco looked at the bottle. “At most two people can drink that.” He frowned.

Silence spread as the team took in the information.

“Right.” Harry said, “Two of us will go through to the other side and stall Quirrell, if he’s still here by any chance. Two of us go back and find Professor McGonagall immediately and tell her that Quirrell has the Stone. If she doesn’t believe it, tell her I’m down here and she _will_ come.” Harry thought about the plan, “Hermione, you’re going up. You’re the only one knowing how to use a StarkPhone—take my phone and call my dad at once.”

“Why don’t you go yourself?” Hermione asked, a bit defensive.

“I have the most firepower here.” Harry shrugged, gesturing at his armour, “I’m least likely to die.”

“I’m coming with you.” Draco said quickly, “Weasley doesn’t know half the spells I do. And the other Quirrell seemed to think of me quite highly, which might give us an advantage.”

“But what if—what if—” Ron started, but couldn’t finish his sentence. Harry knew this kind of feeling—as if saying the words out would jinx the universe and make those bad things actually happen.

“It’s okay.” Harry patted Ron on the shoulder, “I’m usually lucky…and if backup comes in time I’m confident to not get myself killed. Which means it's all on you two, Mr. and Miss Saviour.” He teased, trying to brighten up the mood. Ron gave him a tight smile.

Hermione suddenly let out a sob and threw her arms around him and Draco, drawing them both into an embrace. Harry’s chin knocked on Draco’s shoulder, but before he could protest Ron joined the hug as well. Harry stayed in his awkward position for a few more seconds, not wanting to break the contact. Finally Hermione let go, and there were tears in her eyes. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” She said, “And the best wizard, Harry.”

“Hey, hey.” Harry reached out for her, “Hermione, you’re awesome too. But no one is dying, alright? Please don’t say another thing that sounds like the start of a eulogy.” He lightly tugged her clothing, “Go on. Take Dreki with you. We’ll see you guys leave first.”

Hermione smiled despite everything. Reaching out for the round bottle, she took a sip then shivered.

“Tastes like ice.” She commented, passing the bottle to Ron. Ron gulped down the liquid, wrinkling his nose.

“Be safe, Harry.” Hermione said, tugging Ron’s clothes, face set and determined, “I’ll see you in a while. Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”

Harry watched them disappear through the flames, then turned to take his own share of the potion. Taking in a deep breath, Harry picked up the little bottle. The liquid barely touched his lip before he passed it to Draco. That should be enough, he thought, and even if it wasn’t he still had the Eternal Flames to fall back onto. Pretty sure that it could protect him through any magic-fumed fire…right?

Despite the nervousness of confronting a lunatic murderer, Harry was strangely excited. _This is what Dad does all the time_ , he thought, _and now I_ ’ _m following his footsteps. More like Batman though—Fighting criminals is probably the first step towards becoming a super hero_.

 _Dude_ , _you're daydreaming._ Tom commented drily.

Harry ignored him, and exchanged a look with Draco. “Ready?”

“Of course.” Draco nodded confidently, but from how he was clenching his wand until his knuckles were white, Harry could tell he wasn’t that calm either.

Harry stepped through the black flames. For a second all he could see was the flames, and he felt his _seidr_ moving about in his body, but the next second, his vision cleared, and he found himself in the last chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I (sort of) need a witness, so Draco gets to go in :P


	33. Chapter 33

“I was starting to wonder if you would show up. Ah, there are two of you! Double the surprise then.”

Harry’s first move upon moving into the last chamber was raising his hand and giving the professor a full blast right in the chest. Quirrell staggered backwards, surprised by the amount of power. As he regained balance, Quirrell sneered: “You think you can stop me like this? Muggle weapon does me no harm.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly ropes came out of nowhere and wrapped around Harry. Harry narrowed his eyes, and flipped his hands to draw out the small dagger hidden under his armour. It was Harry’s eleventh birthday gift from Loki, crafted from Asgard’s finest material, and Harry’s pretty sure it could even pierce through his armour—never mind some possibly-not-even-enhanced rope.

 _Don_ ’ _t._ Tom suddenly said. _If you attack now you_ ’ _re choosing to enter the battle too early. A battle you probably can_ ’ _t win by force. What did Aunt Tasha teach us?_

 _Yes_ , _right._ Harry held the dagger in his hand. What did Natasha say again? _Let your enemy underestimate you_ , _then attack at the deadliest moment._ Harry thought quickly of a plan. _I can probably injure him if he gets close enough. And if he thinks I_ ’ _m still bound._ Thinking of which, Harry realized how stupid it was to just walk through the flames without casting an illusion on himself first. That would’ve made a perfect chance for surprise-attacks.

 _How do you know it_ ’ _s going to work?_ Tom asked. _Wizards have pretty tough body._

_Do you have an alternative?_

Tom was silent for a couple of seconds.

_No._

_Well_ , _at least it_ ’ _s a plausible plan._

When Harry refocused, Quirrell has turned to Draco, who was holding his wand in attack position and eyeing Harry worriedly, “Mr. Malfoy, my. You truly have fallen, haven’t you? Hanging out with Gryffindors. Traitor.”

“Professor Quirrell, if you walk out of this chamber right now, you might still live.” Draco’s voice didn’t even quiver, “You can not possibly obtain the Stone—”

“Quiet!” Quirrell said coldly, “With the Stone, my Master will finally come back, and I will find power and glory.”

 _Master?_ Harry thought, _wait what?_

Draco stepped forward: “You—”

“You are no use to my Master any more, Malfoy.” Quirrell raised a hand. A force sent Draco flying backwards; Harry’s eyes widened in fright before his brain caught up. That was a chance.

Calling the wind and casting an illusion at the same time on an object more than a meter from him was not an easy thing for Harry—as a matter of fact, it drained half of Harry’s energy all at once. The air around Draco flickered, then the image of the blond boy suddenly disappeared as wind slowed the impact Harry hoped Draco could get the message he was sending—stay down, stay put, until he sees a chance then go all in.

Quirrell was startled by this development, searching the room for someone else's presence. His eyes narrowed, and soon locked onto Harry. “You and your muggle parents’ little tricks.” He snarled, “Pity how you grow up with these pathetic muggles—you'll never be a match for my master now! When my Master is back, they will be the first ones to die.”

Anger flared inside Harry, but he stayed calm in appearance. _Get him talking_ , he told himself, _don_ ’ _t the super villains all love to talk about their evil master plans?_

“All I see is you getting nowhere close to your goal.” Harry started, and somehow that became the first thing that left his mouth, “What even _are_ you doing with it? Planning to take over the world?”

 _When I said_ “ _talk_ ,” _I did not mean_ “ _mock and anger him._ ” Tom hissed.

 _I didn_ ’ _t mean to either_ , Harry thought.

Quirrell laughed. “The world will only become my Master’s stepping stone. He will come back, and you, Harry Stark-Lokason, will feel his power.” He smirked, “Stark-Lokason. You abandoned your precious parent’s name for those muggles…how stupid…”

“Harry.” A voice whispered from behind him. It was Draco—edging close to him, invisible. “I need to get you out of this.”

“Don’t.” Harry said out of the corner of his mouth. Luckily, Quirrell was staring at the mirror now, not focusing on him. He twisted his hands—the rope all but melted as they met the dagger, and Harry held onto them so that they looked like they were still attached.

“I see the Stone…” Quirrell was mumbling, “I see the Stone now…I am presenting it to my Master…Oh, those glory days when the Dark Lord rules over the world! Soon, soon it will happen again, rise to the top…”

 _Dark Lord_.

“Your master.” Harry said slowly as pieces of information swirled in his mind, finally fitting together. As realization struck him, Harry felt his blood freeze and his heart stopped pumping, “You are working for _Voldemort_.” He said, “Or are _you_ Voldemort?” Was that why Quirrell was drinking unicorn blood? Why Quirrell need the Elixir of Life? Not to extend his own life, but somehow transferring the effect onto his “Master.” To bring back the guy Harry was supposed to have killed ages ago.

 _Nothing stays dead these days._ He thought. First HYDRA as an organization, next Zola as a supercomputer, and now Voldemort as a…what, ghost?

Quirrell’s eyes snapped up. “You dare to use his name?” He hissed dangerously, “You know not half his power, fool!”

“Voldemort’s _dead_ , idiot.” Harry countered. Even though he couldn’t see anyone, he could feel Draco stiffening up beside him. _Now_ , he thought, _if Quirrell is really possessed by Voldemort_ , _what the hell should I do?_

 _I_ ’ _m prone to thinking that if you don_ ’ _t kill him_ , _he_ ’ _s going to kill you._

“He’s never dead, dear boy.” Quirrell smiled like a maniac. Harry cringed at the sight—Quirrell’s facial expression made the professor looked like he just swallowed a basket of lemon, nowhere as charming as Papa’s when he did his crazy grin. “But I suppose it would not matter to you, after I kill you tonight.” He sang, “No one can stop me now—Dumbledore is in London, and by the time he gets back, my Master would’ve taken over this stupid school already!”

 _See? I guessed right._ Tom said.

“I don’t see your plan succeeding anywhere.” Harry challenged again, edging towards Quirrell. “You’ve been staring at the mirror for quite a while, you know.”

Quirrell rose from his position and stormed towards Harry. “You will pay, my boy.” He hissed menacingly as he walked closer, “My Master—”

 _He_ ’ _s within range now!_ Tom alerted.

So many things happened in the next second that it all became a blur to Harry. He jumped out of the rope, just as the professor yelled a curse Harry had never heard of before. He didn’t end up finishing it, because Draco’s _Confringo_ managed to blast him backwards, before Harry’s dagger caught up and pierce Quirrell right in the neck. Blood splashed out of the wound, and Quirrell fell down, a look of disbelief still clear on his face. As if he couldn’t believe how a dagger, of all things, could possibly take his life.

 _Nice throw_ , commented Tom.

Harry stood up shakily, eyeing the body that lied on the stone floor. He hadn’t felt anything when he threw the dagger at the man—threw it like he did every time he sneaked into the gym and practiced with the targets specially designed for Uncle Clint. Something changed when he saw Quirrell falling backwards, down onto the ground. It felt cold. _He_ felt cold, watching the man—the professor he had known for almost a year now—lifeless, with his limbs all mangled up.

This is not a practice any more.

_What had he done?_

_That_ ’ _s what we_ ’ _re taught to do_ , Tom told him. _Aren_ ’ _t you proud that our practices are paying off? Aunt Tasha would be proud. You don_ ’ _t need to feel bad._

Draco appeared not far away as Harry’s magic dropped, carefully approaching Quirrell. Harry looked up: “Is he—is he dead?” He asked. To be honest, Harry didn’t need to ask that question at all. His aim wasn’t off—the dagger struck Quirrell exactly where it should have, and with that much blood loss even a wizard couldn’t possibly survive. He had just _killed_ a person.

 _I guess that also comes with being the hero_ , Harry thought shakily.

Draco kneeled beside the body. He reached out to the dagger, but his hand hesitated in the air. “I think he is.” He said, looking up. To Harry’s surprise, Draco wasn’t looking frightened—or perhaps he was just too good at concealing his emotions. “Are you okay?” He questioned.

Harry swallowed. “I—” He started, then his mouth snapped shut. He didn’t know what he should be saying. “Yeah. I think—” He took a deep breath, “We should get out of here.”

There wasn’t even need for Dumbledore anymore. The threat was _eliminated_.

Draco reached down and pulled the dagger out. It drew another squirt of blood, and Harry winced at the sight. Draco quickly walked back to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Crack.

Both Harry and Draco’s eyes snapped up. The sound had come from Quirrell’s direction. Harry stared, wide eyed, as Quirrell’s arm suddenly moved. His bones made crackling sound as the figure moved, pushing itself up...

 _That_ ’ _s_ _impossible_ _!_ Harry screamed in his head. _How can a person still be alive after their_ _carotid artery_ _has been cut—_

But Quirrell wasn’t alive. His eyes were still bulging out, his face frozen in that moment of disbelief. Those limbs were moving even when their control-centre—the brain—wasn’t functioning. _Zombie Apocalypses_ was the first thing that jumped to Harry’s mind.

Draco raised his wand and fired a spell at the figure. It paused for a second but otherwise looked completely unaffected by the curse. A sound—a hissing, cracked sound came from it. “You can not kill me, foolish child...you can not kill Lord Voldemort.”

As it spoke, Quirrell’s Head turned. His turban had fallen down in the events that just occurred, and his neck cracked every inch it moved. When it turned a hundred and eighty degrees...Harry sucked in a breath.

Oh hell _no_.


	34. Chapter 34

“Harry Potter...my arch enemy...” The shape said. On the back of Quirrell’s head was another face—deformed, with eyes red as ruby and a huge, ugly nose. Its mouth was a thin line like lizard’s, cracking open and close as it talked. “Here we are again...”

It was _on the back of Quirrell's head_. Obviously hidden under his turban all along. In this intense moment, Harry’s memory momentarily flashed back to the day before Christmas break—he remembered how Fred and George charmed snowballs to hit Quirrell in the back of his head repeatedly...he wondered what the twins will say if they realized they had been hitting Voldemort in the face. Then he wondered why the twins weren’t _dead_ yet.

Voldemort was still going on about his speech, but Harry wasn't focusing on him. He could feel the Flames rising inside him, hissing and crackling as it burnt through his veins. It didn’t hurt as much as it did when Harry saw Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, but the sensation sent Harry’s hair standing again. Harry tried to raise his hand, but found that he couldn’t move his body, not even his mouth—Voldemort must had done something! In a split second Harry experienced how powerful a wizard Voldemort must had been if he was able to pull something like this off when he literally lived off a dead man’s body. Harry could still reach his _seidr_ , but with the Eternal Flames somehow in the way, it would be hard…

“See what I have become?” Voldemort said sarcastically, “Shadow and vapour…I will be strong again once you help me get the Stone…” He croaked a laughter, “Harry Potter. The boy who lived—who survived my killing curse. The boy who is destined to destroy me…You…are the final step to my glory…”

Strangely, the only thing Harry could think of was _Jesus Christ this guy really is ugly is_ _that_ _why he had chosen to become the Dark Lord god if_ _I_ _have a face like that_ —

“Now, come...” Voldemort said, raising Quirrell’s hand in a very zombie-like fashion, and Harry’s body was pulled towards the mirror by an invisible force. Voldemort held him and forced him in front of the mirror, the voice saying: “Look...Tell me what you see…”

Harry looked. The mirror should show what he wanted the most right now... what does he want?

 _Voldemort. Dead_. The thought popped into his head the same time the mirror surface rippled like the surface of water.

A circle appeared. Harry watched it, confused. Suddenly, a slice of the circle was cut out. Then another slice, then another, and the circle waned. After seven slices were gone, the process stopped. A small piece broke off the circle, and unlike the other ones that just disappeared, it grew into another circle. From it emerged fire, which burnt and burnt until all Harry could see inside the mirror was a sea of flames.

 _What in the name of Valhalla._ Harry thought firmly. If his strongest wish had changed in this instant into getting rid of Voldemort, he was supposed to be seeing _himself getting rid of Voldemort_ ; if it hadn’t, then Harry should be seeing the same image as he had seen before. _What_ even is _this_.

Out of the fire walked a boy Harry’s age—someone he had never seen before. The person has pale skin and dark coloured hair, deeper than Harry’s own brown hair. What was more noticeable was those beautiful, ruby coloured eyes that seemed to be reflecting Harry’s own confusion. Had Harry seen him before? The image did look sort of familiar...the boy blinked then carefully put his hand forward to reach out of the mirror. Harry stared at the shimmering, transparent hand in front of him, and glanced sideway at Quirrell’s form. Voldemort didn’t seem to notice what Harry was seeing—instead, he spoke with another hiss: “My boy…what do you see?”

A snap of finger and Harry could talk again. “Ur.” Harry looked back to the mirror. The strange boy has gone back into the mirror, no longer shimmering or transparent. He pointed towards Harry, as if trying to tell him something. Suddenly Harry felt something inside his armour, stuck painfully between his ribs and the chest plates…the Stone?! What the fu—how did _that_ happen???

But he couldn’t think about it right now. Knowing he had no time to waste, Harry chose to tell half the truth (since _he_ had no idea what they were referring to either): “I see…I see a divided circle. And then fire, that destroyed everything…”

Voldemort stared at him. “You do not lie…” He said in a low, furious tone, “Then how? HOW?!” He glared at Harry, then raised his hand. Harry saw that he was holding Quirrell’s wand. “It’s a pity, Harry Potter. I have no use of you anymore.” Shit, he still couldn’t move, but with the remaining access to his _seidr_ Harry supposed he could erect a magic shield in time. Hopefully it could block the killing curse. “Prepare to die—”

The mirror rippled, and something bursted out of it. There was a blurry of motion and a screeching scream from Voldemort, and when Harry’s vision cleared enough for him to see what was going on, he was shocked to see Dreki, his tiny dragon, hanging off Voldemort’s nose, and Voldemort was howling like anyone would when a cute lizard you wanted to pet unexpectedly bites your nose—completely forgetting about getting rid of Dreki with magic. The scene was so hilarious that Harry didn’t even stop to consider why had Dreki came out of the Mirror of Erised—for a moment, Harry forgot that he was still in a life-threatening situation and outright _laughed_.

“You!” Voldemort’s glare was really getting murderous now. He still hadn’t managed to get hold of Dreki, his limbs too awkward and stiff. The little dragon squeaked and darted off, only to come back and bite him again. “You dare to mock me, FOOL! You will meet the same end as your parents—begging for my mercy—” He reached out for Harry’s throat.

The second Voldemort’s hand touched Harry, the burning sensation flared up. The Flames blazed through his skin, and Harry let out a choked scream. The fire seemed to be hurting Voldemort more though—he dropped Harry less than a second afterwards, and howled with a horrible, painful voice. The hands that touched Harry were all blistered, and fire crawled up his arm from the hand despite all the spells Voldemort was casting.

Right...god, that was _damn right_! Harry’s eyes lit up despite the pain he was in. He had been thinking about how to _get around_ the Flames to use his _seidr_ , never how to _use_ the Flames to attack—obviously, he didn’t need to consider casualty and whatnots now, because it’s either he dies, or Voldemort dies.

Digging into his core, Harry threw out as much power as he could. The Flames weren’t usually easy to call up, but this time he’s already gotten them excited by being in Voldemort’s presence (still hadn’t figured out why _that_ happened yet) and channeling them through his body wasn’t hard. Fire shot out from Harry, shrouding his whole body in burning flames. From the contact point, the fire burnt the stone floor, then slowly spread, creeping towards Voldemort—or technically, Quirrell’s body. Quirrell’s body slowly collapsed, but Voldemort held onto it, still screaming and somehow standing upright. Of course, since Quirrell was already dead, the only way Harry could get rid of Voldemort was probably destroying the whole corpse. Harry wondered briefly ibis Voldemort could feel the pain of the burn if all the nerve signal transmit were shut down in the body, before he remembered that Voldemort probably didn't literally share Quirrell's brain, and therefore wouldn't be getting the signal even if they were still working right. But that solved none of the question—unless the Flames are directly attacking Voldemort's soul? That'd be much more creepy. What about Dreki biting Voldemort’s nose off then? Well, that _did_ happened on Voldemort’s own deformed face...where is the dragon now??

At some point during the attack, Harry was free to move again—probably as Voldemort dropped the control over Harry since he was forced to focus onto the fire that was destroying his body. The wisest thing to do was _run the fuck out of here_ , but instead Harry reached out and directly grabbed Voldemort’s face with his hands. Direct contact obviously did the parasitic soul more harm—and Harry was determined to get the hell rid of this thing right here and now. He didn’t want Voldemort coming back to bite him— _again_.

There was a horrible scream as Harry held onto the melting body. A blazing pain shot through Harry—he was starting to see stars swimming in his vision now. Somewhere in the distance, he heard someone screaming his name. _Fuck_ , _Draco_ ’ _s still here_ , he thought, and that was the last thing he remembered before his vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Infinity War yesterday. All I want to say is what in the fucking fuck of fuck. I mean it's a really great movie (at least I think so) but fuck.
> 
> I'll post the last two chapters in approx. three days. I have started the second book but so far I'm still on the first chapter and...I suppose I would only have more time to write in the summer (´･ω･`)


	35. Chapter 35

Bright sunlight shone through the window. Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, and peered at the alarm on his bed stand— _April 14th_ , _6:40 am_. Harry pulled his blanket over his head and groaned through muffled voice: “JARVIS, blinds please!”

“Master Harry.” JARVIS replied, amused, “It’s good to see you...back to yourself.”

 _I just want to sleep_ , thought Harry. A second later, his brain caught up with what JARVIS had said. _Back to myself...back to..._ Harry shot out of his bed. “Voldemort!” He cried, eyes darting across the room in alarm. Memories flowed back to him—the Stone, the Mirror, the zombie-Quirrell and the _thing_ on his head—

“Master Harry, you are showing signs of hyperventilation.” JARVIS’ smooth voice calmed Harry down enough for the boy to notice that, wait a sec, he was indeed at home in Stark Tower, “Deep breath. Inhale—hold—exhale. Very well, Master Harry. Please the repeat the process.”

Harry took a deep breath as instructed. Then he took another one. When he felt like his heart wasn’t in danger of failing any second, he raised his head and asked: “J, how did I get back here?”

“I believe sir brought you back with help from Doctor Strange, and Master Loki arrived shortly after. Both sir and Master Loki are currently located in the United Kingdom.” JARVIS said, “Miss Potts will arrive in the tower soon—ETA eight minutes.”

Good. Okay. So he’s got Dad and Papa covering the situation—that’s _much_ more reassuring than having, say, Dumbledore working on the aftermath. Harry looked around. It was so quiet today...or was it always this quiet? He felt like he was missing something...

“Harry!” The door bursted open. Harry blinked in surprise as Draco rushed in, wearing jeans and T-shirts (Harry briefly looked down at himself and saw him wearing his pyjama). He reached and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulder, and the latter fell back onto his bed under the sudden impact: “Thank Merlin, finally! You’ve been sleeping for three days!”

Harry flailed under Draco. “You know,” he choked out, “I think you’re almost succeeding in what Voldemort didn’t manage.” Draco winced at the mention of the name, but Harry continued, “Careful—squishy human here. God, your hug is as goddamn suffocating as Uncle Thor’s!”

Draco held his body up by his elbow, giving Harry just enough room to breath. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“As well as I should feel.” Harry raised his hand and green mist instantly wrapped around his hand, “Yea, pretty good, actually. Now get off me!” Harry said, slipping out from under Draco, who flipped over so he was lying on his back as well. “Why are you here??”

“I think I’m kind of grounded right now.” Draco sulked, “Your super computer butler— _excuse me,_ I seem to remember you saying he’s your _brother_ —told me that I couldn’t leave, then my Dad sent me an owl, also telling me to stay wherever I am. I don’t think he realized I am half a world away from Hogwarts.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. There’s about a million questions still unanswered. “What happened?” He asked, “After I faint, I mean? I fainted, didn’t I?”

Draco shivered visibly. “Your fire managed to melt Quirrell down—it was really disgusting—and there was this _ghost_ thing escaping from him—” Draco turned around to face Harry, and Harry could tell how the blond boy was still haunted by that horrible experience, “But it was gone pretty fast and there were just you and me and a chamber that’s falling apart…”

Draco was silent for a few moment. “I floated you out, and ran into your father on the way. The red one. A man with red cape was following him and he opened a sparkling portal like your ball did, then we got here…”

“I believe that was Dr. Strange.” Harry said. He combed through the events and asked: “What about Dreki? That was Dreki, right? Did you see him going anywhere? And— _oh shit_.”

 _Tom_.

That was why Harry felt like the room was so quiet—he’s missing the familiar voice in his head. Did using the Flames influenced him? Of course it would, what was he thinking—then where is Tom?

 _Tom? Hello?_ Harry called into his mind. He could still feel Tom’s presence, but no one was responding to his words. Harry continued pestering the link for a few minutes before he gave up and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a very concerned Draco, frowning down at him.

“What just happened?”

“Oh, um.” Harry realized that he hadn’t told Draco about Tom yet, “Do you…”

“Master Harry, Dreki is currently located on the eighty second floor. No other members of the Avengers team is present.” JARVIS was the one to reply to Harry’s previous question, cutting Harry’s sentence off, “Master Tom is moving towards you—ETA two seconds.”

 _Moving towards me_ —that only made Harry more confused. What did JARVIS mean, moving towards him? It can’t be—

“Hello, brother.”

The voice could only be Tom’s, but it had come from a shimmering shape—it was the person in the mirror! Except the figure in front of Harry had chocolate brown eyes instead of red. Harry’s eyes widened as he suddenly remembered where he had seen the boy before—the day Ron took him to the Mirror for the first time, Harry had seen the same person standing beside mirage-him. The figure was still shimmering, the same way it had been when he reached out of the mirror at Harry, and now the boy was holding his arms out wide and grinning a very Loki-style grin: “Aren’t you going to give me a hug?”

Harry was speechless.

“Oh, I forgot.” Tom lowered his arms and pouted after a period of silence, “You can’t touch me. What a shame.”

“Right.” Draco commented drily beside Harry, “And you forgot to tell me that you have a ghost brother. Seriously, _what_ is with your family? An alien father, the other an abnormal muggle, then a—what do you call that again—artificial intelligence brother, and now a ghost. Should I even be surprised that you’re the wizard who was destined to save the world?”

Tom tilted his head and glared at Draco. “You’re calling _me_ a ghost? I’m so much better than ghosts!” He hissed, “Look at me, at least I have _colour_!”

Harry stared at him, a grin spreading on his face as his brain finally wrapped around the situation. A feeling of warmth started to spread in his heart. _Of course no one should be surprised._ He thought.

_After all, the Stark family_ _was_ _the most surreal thing existing in the whole world._

***

The first question was _how_. _How_ did Tom end up a ghost? Harry knew for a fact that he wasn’t supposed to be separated—not for at least another few months—and surely he wasn’t supposed to exist like a ghost.

“I don’t think you even noticed.” Tom grimaced, “The moment Mr. Red-eyes showed up, I lost my consciousness. Next thing I knew, I was inside the Mirror.”

“What.” Harry said flatly.

Draco tugged at him. “What did you see when you looked into the mirror?” He asked curiously.

“I didn’t lie.” Harry said, “I actually saw that circle and fire thing, but then Tom walked out of it and pointed at me and—I don’t know, I thought I got the Stone.”

“You did.” Tom confirmed, “But Papa said it was a low quality replica of the Reality Stone…”

“The _what_.” Harry interrupted. He’s slowly getting used to being surprised all the time and then to not being surprised at all by whatever news he received.

“Surprise, eh. I don't think the Flamel guy was actually the creator of the Stone either. Papa said it was more likely to be the creation of someone from the other realms.” Tom shrugged, “He took it and said he’s going to interrogate Dumbledore on how the wizardry world come to possess such an artifact. Then he’s going to destroy it.”

“Destroy it…” Harry frowned, “So Flamel will die.”

“As if he hasn’t lived long enough?” Tom pouted, “I suppose.” He continued about his story, “Anyways, right, I somehow got sucked into that Mirror. It was like a world in the mirror, a bit weird, distorted even. I can’t picture what it looks like but it feels quite distinct...then fire started and suddenly I had a shape. Or maybe I always did and the Mirror just did something to release it...that was when I saw the Stone just appearing out if nowhere. I think the mirror just tossed it at you.”

“And that's when you pointed at me.” Harry said.

“Yea.” Tom paused, “I feel like the Mirror has power no weaker than the Philosopher’s Stone itself.”

Harry couldn’t disagree with that. What kind of mirror can show everyone’s deepest desire, have a world inside it, and is able to hide the Philosopher’s Stone at its own will??? “What about Dreki? How did she get involved?”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t know.” He said, “Papa ran off before I had a chance to ask more questions. I think he went off dealing with Dumbledore—that old bastard set up the whole debacle, didn’t he?”

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why do you suspect Professor Dumbledore?” He asked.

Draco, who had been silent as Tom recounted his story, piped up: “It could _only_ be him. Dumbledore is the person Flamel trusted the Stone with in the first place. He gave you the Cloak of Invisibility too—I bet he didn’t took in the fact that you could turn invisible even without the cloak. Then he showed up when you saw the Mirror of Erised for the first time and explained to you how it works. Isn’t it a bit suspicious that he would set up the protection so that the last step to the Stone is the Mirror? Oh and let’s not even talk about those stupid protections that’s obviously designed to be passed...”

Harry knew about all those—in fact, he himself had been pondering about this possibility. But why? Why would Professor Dumbledore want _him_ to risk his life for a _stupid stone_? Well, a unsuccessful replica of the reality stone, but still…

As if knowing what he was thinking, Tom spoke up again. “It’s Voldemort he wanted you to face.”

Harry paused.

“Obviously Voldemort’s not dead, contrary to everyone’s belief.” Tom explained, “Somehow Dumbledore believes that you are the one destined to kill Voldemort, so I assume that he’s trying to ‘train’ you…for the final battle, I guess. The Grande Finale.”

“Can we stop saying his name?” Draco protested weakly.

Harry looked at him. “Why do you not want to call him Voldemort?” He asked.

“For a starter, he’s a very powerful wizard.” Draco said.

 _For a starter, Papa’s probably more powerful than that ugly bitch_. Tom said in Harry’s head.

Harry shot him a look. _You can still talk with me like that?_

 _Yea. Apparently I’m still living in your head—I can’t keep my ghost form twenty-four seven. I’m still waiting for Dad’s ritual._ Tom replied, _now listen to what your boyfriend has to say._

 _NOT my boyfriend_. Harry hissed.

“You-Know-Who represents absolute power and control.” Draco’s eyebrows were all knitted, “Even my father said he was scary. He doesn’t care about lives, muggles or wizards—he operates on the belief of pure bloods, but from what I heard he would kill any of his followers without even much of a thought.”

“Then why did all those people follow him?” Harry asked.

“For a while he seemed promising, I suppose.” Draco lowered his voice, “You know how a lot of Slytherins joined the Death Eaters? Slytherins only do what benefits them—or what they think would benefit them. Father never talked about it, but I think for a while he thought You-Know-Who could actually lead us to glory.”

Tom snorted. “Glory.” He said sarcastically, “The thing everyone want.”

“That’s no reason to refuse calling Voldemort by his name though.” Harry paused, “What _is_ his name? Like, _real_ name? I suppose Voldemort is only a nickname, right?”

“Code name, he means.” Tom clarified. He wrinkled his nose, “Voldemort—Fly from Death? Is that why he named his troops _Death Eaters_??”

“Voldemort’s got some horrible taste.” Harry mumbled.

Draco was still pale from hearing all those “Voldemort”s being thrown around the room. But Harry’s question was the first time someone got him thinking about this question. _Why_ do people refuse to call Voldemort by his name? “It’s fear, I think. Some respect from the Slytherins.” He slowly summarized, “I do think at one point, You-Know-Who punished everyone who dared to call him by his name…and there’s the thing that whenever you call him by the name, he’ll hear it…”

“That’s sort of stupid.” Harry commented. They don’t even treat _Thanos_ like that around here. “We all know he’s not dead now, has just escaped, and apparently Voldemort himself thinks I’m supposed to have a part in defeating him. Whatever plan Dumbledore has, it’s got _me_ in it, which means everyone around me will also get involved. Being afraid of Voldemort helps no one.”

Compared to Harry, Tom’s question was a lot more harsh and straightforward. “You still _respect_ him? Whose side are _you_ on then? _”_ He asked, “Pardon me, let me rephrase that—is your _father_ on our side, or Voldemort’s?”

Draco met his eyes calmly. “Slytherins are always on the side that benefits them the most…” He said slowly, “After all that time…I suppose aligning with Dumbledore doesn’t seem like such a bad thing compared to being tossed around by You-Know-Who.” He inhaled, “I mean, Vol-volde—“ Draco’s voice broke off. He couldn’t finish the name.

Harry patted him on the back. “You don’t have to do it right now. We’ll take this one step at a time.” He said, then rethought about Dumbledore, “Honestly, I don’t like Dumbledore…why do we have to align with _him_ to stop Voldemort?”

Draco calmed down. “He’s the only wizard standing a chance against You-Know-Who.” He said, “And he was the head of the resistance in the last war. As much as I hate to admit…he has authority over a lot of people.”

“ _Captain America_ probably has authority over more people.” Tom puffed. Suddenly, as if struck by something, Tom’s eyes brightened—it was quite an alarming sight, seeing those red eyes glittering in the sunshine, “You know, there are all those people who don’t like Dumbledore’s way of doing things, so why don’t we form a third party?”

“Um.” Harry blinked.

“We have the other supernatural forces behind us.” Tom explained more deeply, “I mean, you don’t honestly think the Avengers will be willing to listen to Dumbledore if there actually is a battle.”

Draco suddenly grinned. “That’s brilliant.” He said, “I think my father would be far more willing to work with _your_ team, Harry. Most Slytherin would like your father for sure.”

The door bursted open once again before Harry had a chance to reply. Pepper smiled brightly at Harry: “Great to see you well, Mr. Stark-Lokason. We’ll have a lot to talk about.”

 _Oh no_. Harry thought. Aunt Pepper only calls him by his last name when she’s really seriously mad—same with calling Dad. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Tom dissolved into thin air, and Draco adjusted his position so that he was sitting straighter than before. Harry suddenly remembered all the reckless and probably stupid decisions he had made, and remembered how Aunt Pepper had been like every time Dad hurt himself in a mission.

God…it’s going to be a _long_ day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces a lot of new/key concepts, which is why it's sort of messy in terms of structure...at some point I might come back and clear things up, maybe even expanding this into two chapters.
> 
> I was planning for Tom to appear/get a body in third year but somehow I'm getting impatient and don't want to wait anymore...so I'll take ghost Tom first :P


	36. Chapter 36

It was a hard battle to get the team to agree to let him stay in Hogwarts for the next six years, but it worked out—not without price. Loki got _very_ pissed, at Hogwarts, at Tony, even at Harry himself—Harry didn’t even dare to ask him what had happened between him, Dumbledore, and the Stone before Loki left through the Bifrost again—then Harry got a talk from essentially everyone on the team (and those that were not). He was so tired by the end of the day that, when Tony finally came around into his room, all Harry could think of was— _for_ _Christ’s_ _sake, I don’t_ _care_ _if I’m going to Siberia with Aunt Natasha in the summer. Please shut up._

Tony was here to basically lay out all the things Harry needed to ensure that he was (relatively) safe at Hogwarts. Harry wondered if his trunk even has enough space for all the things he was asked to bring with him. “And you’re taking JARVIS with you. This one’s a must.” Tony added, “You have no idea how hard you scared your Papa, Harry. Having JARVIS watching over you would at least give us some idea what’s going on.” He explained.

Harry looked down, eyes falling onto Dreki, who was sleeping on his lap. “I know. And I’m sorry. For making you worried.” He said. He truly was. Besides, having JARVIS with him had little drawback—he wouldn’t turn down the offer anyways.

“At this point I’m supposed to be telling you that you shouldn’t worry about Voldemort and leave him to adults. But then you’re mine and I don’t need to doubt your reaction to that kind of treatment.” Tony continued. Harry couldn’t not smile at his words. “So, I won’t lie. From what we know, there’s a prophecy about only the two of you and Voldemort could live in this world.”

Harry sucked in a breath. Something crossed his mind, but he was too slow to grasp what it was.

“You are the one destined to destroy Voldemort.” Tony looked Harry straight in the eyes, “But something has changed.”

What?

“I don’t know what’s going on yet, but Lokes seems to have an idea—he’s back in Asgard trying to research something.” Tony said. His expression turned serious, “Either way, we’ll try our best to protect you, Harry. Dumbledork’s been wanting you to go into war zone knowing nothing—I won’t allow that. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Just remember…we’ll all be with you.” He touched Harry’s shoulder, “No need to worry now—we’ve dealt with the government already.”

Harry nodded quietly, wondering what Dad meant by dealing with the government.

Tony looked around. “Do you know where Tom is?” He asked, “I need to talk to him as well.”

Harry shook his head. “Tom left after dinner, but he should be still in the building,” he said. From what they had tested in the afternoon, Tom could only move about within fifty meters of Harry, but other than that his new ghost form had almost no restriction.

“Alright.” Tony scanned the room one last time before turning around, “I should probably go—you need to rest, kid.”

“Dad?” Harry called. “What did you do…to Professor Dumbledore?”

From all he knew, the first thing Dad and Papa did after he was brought back to Stark Tower was storming into the school and confronting Dumbledore, and knowing his parents Harry hoped they didn’t slip and kill the headmaster…

Tony smirked. “Oh, we didn’t _do_ anything to Headmaster Bumblebee.” He said flippantly, “We just showed him…what we _could_ do. Have a good night, Harry.”

Harry watched him leave, feeling like he should pity Professor Dumbledore.

“Oh right.” Tony yelled from outside, “Just thought you would want to know—your final exams are coming up in two weeks! May the force be with you, Harry!”

Final exam? Final…

Fuck.

***

When Harry walked into the Great Hall, everyone stopped talking. He paused at the entrance slightly, feeling at least a hundred people’s gazes falling onto him then moving away awkwardly, before quickening his footsteps towards the Gryffindor table. Ron was waving at him fiercely, and Hermione was smiling…those two were probably the only ones in Harry’s view that were still acting “normal.”

As he sat down, Harry glanced around the Hall quickly. Dumbledore wasn’t at the Head Table, neither was Quirrell or Professor McGonagall. Professor Snape, for his part, was staring at Harry with a hard-to-read expression. Draco had sat down at the Slytherin table without much of a fuss, and was talking quietly to Blaise beside him, and Harry caught Pansy peering at him. There were still people staring at Harry, but when he looked their ways, everyone looked away, not daring to meet his eyes. The Hall was eerily quiet as Harry picked up his plate.

“Your parents are so cool!” Ron was whispering by his ears, “Do you know that they—”

Hermione pinched him: “Shut up.” She hissed, “Breakfast first, then we’ll talk in the library. Harry, I have all the notes for you.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiled. He only picked up and apple as he waited for his friends to finish. People slowly resumed their own conversation, but Harry could still feel their gazes falling onto him.

 _We should’ve done this last term_. Tom drawled. _Look, the respect and fear, how wonderful._

 _Tom_. Harry hissed.

 _Blah, blah, blah_. Tom mumbled.

They finished their breakfast quickly, and Hermione led the boys towards the library. As they walked across the Entrance Hall, Harry glanced towards the newly painted ground. Why would anyone paint the floor?? He thought he might had seen scorched patterns underneath the painting, but he didn’t have enough time to check.

Draco and Blaise joined them in the library. Hermione asked for a study room and locked the door. Draco let out a sigh of relief: “Finally.”

Harry turned to him, curious. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong??” Draco rolled his eyes, “Everyone’s acting crazy and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

Harry thought about it. He was used to everyone staring at him, for being Tony’s kid then for being the Boy-Who-Lived, and the silence today was just a slightly intensified version of his usual breakfast treatment. He honestly didn’t see anything wrong.

Blaise elbowed him. “We’re acting ‘crazy’ for a reason.” He signalled at Harry, “Your parents were, uh…”

“What did they do?” Harry asked, glancing around. Hermione was digging in her bag for the notes she promised him, her expression concealed; Ron was looking both excited and a bit scared; and Blaise was smiling a very Slytherin smile. Harry blinked. What _did_ Tony and Loki do?

“Technically, nothing.” Hermione finally pulled her notebooks out, “Here.” She handed them to Harry, “There was a bit of threatening involved, and some demonstration of power…”

That’s probably what Dad called showing Dumbledore what they could do, Harry thought.

“You have no idea how cool your father was!” Ron finally spoke up, his face flushing red, “There was this blinding light and he stormed in—”

“He’s talking about Loki.” Hermione chipped in.

“—and then he grabbed Professor Dumbledore’s throat! Just like that!” Ron waved his hands around.

 _And Dad told us they did_ _nothing_. Harry thought.

“He said he would break Dumbledore’s wand, but Snape stopped him.” Ron continued. Harry blinked: “Snape?”

“Yea, they seemed to know each other.” Ron nodded, “Then Professor McGonagall said we should go back to bed…”

“Can we start from the beginning? I’m getting quite confused.” Draco asked, “When did all that happen?”

Hermione was the one to answer. “I called your Dad the minute we stepped out of the door.” She began, “Then we went to Professor McGonagall’s office and we met Professor Dumbledore on our way. He was with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape already, and he knew you went down—he just said ‘Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?’, then Loki showed up.” She tilted her head towards Harry.

Blaise poked at Draco again: “None of you even told me that you had this adventurous plan.” He complained.

“The Cloak can’t cover all of us.” Draco shrugged, then turned to Harry, “Well, doesn’t that make Dumbledore even more suspicious.”

Harry nodded, then shook his head, “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He said, thinking about what Tony had unraveled yesterday, “I mean, he wasn’t the one trying to steal the Stone. It’s more complicated.”

“What is it then?” Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. That was beyond his friends—Voldemort, Fate, and prophecies…the responsibility was too great for him to decide whether to share or not.

“You’re _not_ going to hide it from us, Harry.” Hermione said sternly, “We’re all in already. I can swear another oath if you need me to. There is no way we’re watching you stepping into hell without even knowing about it.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I will…later.” He said, scanning the room, “Did my parents do anything else?”

From what he understood, Tony and Strange came directly towards third floor after Hermione talked with them. Harry didn’t know how Loki could’ve been informed, but he guessed Heimdall—the All-Seer of Asgard. The blinding light was obviously the BiFrost landing…Harry wondered if that was why the floor was repainted—to cover up the scorched runes. So Loki went directly to Dumbledore and Tony took Harry and Draco back home…but something else must had happened. That wasn’t enough for the reaction everyone had during breakfast.

“Well.” Blaise started, “As someone who _didn’t_ join your adventure…the next day started off quite normally. Except everyone noticed that Dumbledore was quite pale and weak—he was shaking, you know, which was sort of alarming.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I guess that still counts as doing nothing. If Papa really wanted to do anything, Dumbledore would be dead in three minutes.”

Ron shivered. Blaise continued talking. “Halfway through breakfast, your father—Mr. Stark—showed up…” He pointed at Harry, then pointed at Draco, “With your father.”

“Impossible.” Draco bursted out.

Blaise ignored him. “Mr. Stark somehow got a position on the Hogwarts board of governors.” He explained, “And he became a member of the Wizengamot in one night. He showed up with a crew of people and threatened to impeach Dumbledore…in front of everyone. He had a whole list of crimes Dumbledore had offended, three quarter of which are muggle laws…”

“Wait. Wait, wait, what??” Harry shook his head, “Dad is a member of the Wizengamot?” He knew that was basically the wizardry parliament—hight-light “ _wizardry_ ”—and how the hell did Tony get in there as a muggle??

“I don’t know how, but Mr. Stark’s name _was_ recorded as one. He’s also got a high position in the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Malfoy was there to support him.” Blaise sat up straight, “As you can see…that created quite some chaos.”

Ron pointed at Blaise: “If there ever is an understatement, that’s it.” He then explained to Harry, “School was out of session for three days because your Dad actually _went and sue Dumbledore_.”

Draco inhaled audibly.

 _That sounds like the dealing with government thing Dad was talking about_. Tom commented.

Blaise continued. “That’s how everyone gets to know about the Stone, the Mirror, and everything.” He paused, “There’s been a lot of students trying to get into the maze on third floor, but for all we know it had disappeared. Just puff, and gone. The room is still there, but the trapdoor isn’t there anymore. The whole corridor looks like someone has burnt it.” He looked at Harry, “Do you remember what happened?”

“The Eternal Flames.” Harry said immediately, “It probably burnt its way out of the maze before Dumbledore closed the space.”

Hermione made a sound, and started digging in her bag again.

“Where is the Stone now?” Draco asked, “And the Mirror?” He’s been wanting to look at the mirror ever since Harry told him about the experience, but when he was finally in front of it Draco had no time to pause and see for himself. It would be quite a pity if the fire destroyed the mirror as well…

“Dunno. Either Dumbledore has them, or they’re both gone.” Ron shrugged, then moved onto Harry again, “That’s all we know. Mate, what did your parents tell _you_? What did Dumbledore do?”

It’s quite a long story, Harry thought. He glanced around the room, his brain racing. Should he trust his friends? Friends…he liked that word. Should he allow himself to pull them towards what even his parents weren’t sure about? Should he…

They deserved the truth—at least parts of it.

“Well…” Harry said slowly, “First of all, I have someone to introduce…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THOUGHT I POSTED 36 BUT APPARANTLY I DID NOT. SORRY GUYS


	37. Chapter 37

The most scary thing after Harry returned wasn’t the coming exams. It was the fact that since Quirrell was dead, Snape took over the Defence Against Dark Arts class for the last couple weeks.

Just the thought of Snape teaching DADA made Harry’s hair stand. Literally.

Strangely, Snape chose not to diss Harry in the Defence class. As a matter of fact, he completely ignored the Gryffindors—not even a point off for the whole week. That was such a miracle that even Hermione started to wonder if Snape was possessed. Of course, he didn’t award any points to Gryffindor either. Harry heard that Snape had always wanted to teach Defence class…he’s not going to lie. Snape was a pretty good teacher, at least he was when the only subject Harry could compare him with was _Quirrell_. In fact, he managed to teach the class everything they needed to know for the Ministry-administrated first year exam in _a week’s time_.

Thanks to Hermione’s stack of notes and Tom’s private tutoring sessions (Harry had no idea _how_ Tom could possibly learn everything _that_ fast,) Harry survived his final exams. They had written exams in the Great Hall, and practical ones in each professor’s classrooms. He was quite proud when he successfully enchanted a teapot to dance for Professor Flitwick’s exam—Harry thought about the Ballet-Dancer!Cap deco he found during Christmas, and smirked. That would make an excellent present for Dad’s birthday…maybe he should also go and find and enchant an Iron Man toy…

In the end, Harry went and enchanted a whole team of figurines. The funniest thing that happened during the birthday party was when Dummy cut the cake, an Iron Man figurine shot out of it and yelled “Surprise!” in Tony’s own voice before flying off. The expression on Tony’s face was priceless.

Dreki ended up eating most of that poor cake.

Loki arrived just in time to see Dreki swimming in a half-destroyed cake, its scales covered in cream and chocolate. Harry ran up to give him a hug: “Papa! You’re back! How’s Grandma?”

“Mother is well now.” Loki smiled and placed a kiss on Harry’s forehead, “I see that you are recovering from the attack.” The attack being the whole Quirrell ordeal, obviously.

Uncle Thor walked pass them and went straight for Tony. “Man of Iron!” He said, literally grabbing Tony and pulling him into such a tight embrace that Tony’s feet were lifted off the ground. Harry blinked and thought he had heard his Dad screech. Loki sighed beside Harry.

“Come,” He said, “It is your Dad’s day today.”

Tom swooped down from the ceiling and grinned when Harry jumped back when he came too close (it was quite scary, really, especially since Tom had started grasping how to make his ghosty form look solid) He floated cheerfully around them—Tom had brown eyes today, Harry noticed.

The party lasted way after midnight, but Tony insisted that Harry should go back to his dorm before the adults finish off the party and leave. It was only then that Harry remembered that there was a thing called time difference, and in England it would be five in the morning already. Luckily, they’ve finished all their exams, so it wouldn’t matter if he stays in bed for another couple of hours.

Strange, who was half drunk already, managed to open and stabilize a portal for Harry. Harry looked at the portal skeptically—he didn’t really trust Strange’s navigating skills when the latter was drunk. It’s not a vampire castle on the other side…right?

He stepped across the circle with Dreki and Tom. By now, Dreki had grown to the size of an adult rabbit. Harry frowned at the little creature, wondering whether he would need to drape her with illusions every time they go anywhere. She couldn’t fit into his pocket anymore…

As the blazing portal shrunk and disappeared, Harry glanced around and found himself in the Gryffindor tower already. _Nice_ , he thought, _that makes things way easier_. He turned around and walking straight towards the common room.

 _Wait_. Tom suddenly said, his voice alarmed and urgent. Harry stopped immediately, holding out his weapon: _what? Is something here?_

Tom didn’t reveal himself, and instead paused for a long time. Harry looked around nervously but he couldn’t see anyone—or hear anything. He didn’t think Miss Norris was around. Finally, Tom said hesitantly in Harry’s head: _I…nothing. Probably a mistake._

Harry lowered his hands. _Alright_ , he thought. Harry turned to look out of the window. The sky was already starting to brighten up. He looked around again. Still finding nothing, Harry waved a hand at Dreki and washed an illusion over them. _Let’s go then_ , he thought, suppressing a yawn.

The corridor was quiet and still as he left. Only seconds later, the air at the spot under the window shimmered and revealed two shadowy figures. It wasn’t shadows—it was the black, wizardry cloak! Dumbledore, in a strangely serious black gown, stared after Harry, eyes glittering. McGonagall stood beside him, her lips thinned to a line. “I need a serious talk with Mr. Stark.” She said, “Walking around this time in the morning, bringing an absolutely illegal creature to school…”

Dumbledore interrupted. “Don’t.” He said, then let out a long, suffering sigh, “Minerva, you know Harry’s parents. Ignore whatever that happens around them, please.”

“Albus!” McGonagall said sharply, “How can you…!”

“Can’t you see, Minerva?” Dumbledore said, sounding tired. He turned around and looked out the window, “We _have_ lost control. His parents are the unknown variables in the equation…” He laughed lightly, “No, _Harry_ himself has turned into an unknown variable. I have to say, Minerva, it might give us an advantage. At least Voldemort will be _very_ surprised the next time he tries to attack Harry.”

McGonagall crossed her arms and glared at Dumbledore. “What about Mr. Stark’s pet?” She asked, “Am I to ignore that as well?”

Dumbledore smiled again, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were scarily clam and sharp as he turned to meet McGonagall’s eyes: “Oh, there is no need to worry, Minerva. It’s perfectly legal—in fact, two days ago, the Ministry added another species onto the list of magical creatures.” He paused, “Apparently, the little being was a…crossbreed between snakes, lizards and bats.”

“That’s absurd!”

“Maybe.” Dumbledore sighed, “But I fear we have no say in this matter. Alright, Minerva, I still need to floo to the Ministry—”

“What!” McGonagall said sharply, “What is it now!”

Dumbledore could only sigh. “I fear that things I have tried to do in the past year has indeed been bordering on where our ministry administrated laws declares illegal…” He stopped himself, “Please go back to your office, Minerva. You as the Deputy Headmistress will take over my roles while I deal with my unfinished businesses…”

Dumbledore’s image faded away again as he covered himself in an invisibility spell. McGonagall sighed and dropped her arms. Even she couldn’t claim that what Dumbledore did was perfectly safe an legal—for one thing, knowing Quirrell had been targeting Harry from before Christmas and not acting at all! Professor Snape too! She’ll need to talk to _him_ as well…

As she turned and walked away, her heels made clicking sounds on the cold stone floor. McGonagall shook her head once more. Well, no _student_ died. She supposed she should be glad with _this_ result…

***

The end-of-the-year feast was as magnificent as the feast at the start of the year, but what was even cooler was how Gryffindor managed to beat Slytherin by ten points and won the house cup, breaking Slytherin’s record of winning seven house cups straight. Harry thought it might had something to do with how Snape stopped pestering the Gryffindors as much during the last couple of months…

They received their exam marks the day after the feast, and were told to pack up since the train was coming the next day. Harry sent all of his trunks back through a portal, and decided to take the train only to share the experience with his friends again.

Harry got a Merlin card from his Chocolate Frog this time. He secretly wondered if Merlin could possibly be an alien, and if Papa could possibly know Merlin. Merlin’s magic sounded much more similar to the way people of the rest of the Nine Realms use their _seidr_.

“I’ll miss you.” Hermione said as the train pulled into the station, “I’ll owl you.”

Harry laughed softly. “I’ll miss you too, but I don’t think owning someone across the sea is a great option.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Right. Let me rephrase that. I’ll _text_ you.” She said, holding out her phone.

Harry smiled, then winked, “That’s right. Besides, I don’t even know where I’ll be going for summer.”

“You’re traveling?” Blaise asked curiously, “Where?”

“Not traveling.” Harry stuck out his tongue, “Far worse than that. My aunt is designing a training camp for me—Dad said I need to learn to fight properly. It’s going to be a nightmare.”

“You sound like you’re looking forward to it.” Draco pointed out.

“Who said I’m not?” Harry shrugged, “That’s going to last for a month, and I’ll come visit you guys in August. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Ron, who had been stuffing his mouth with more chocolate frogs, grinned widely, “You’re always welcomed at the Burrow—that’s the name of our house, by the way.”

Hermione smacked Ron in the arm. “Mind your manner.” She hissed, “Don’t talk when you’re eating chocolate frogs.”

Draco smirked. “Right, mind your manner, Weasley.” He called before turning to Harry and give him a tight hug, “I’ll look forward to your visit. Please don’t just randomly show up in my bedroom.”

Harry laughed. “I’ll make sure I knock.”

“We’re here.” Tom said, surfacing from the ceiling. Ron yelped and choked on his chocolate, but everyone else was laughing hard. Tom reached for Harry and as they touched, Harry again felt like he was being soaked in icy water. A second later his vision cleared and Tom was inside his head once more.

He followed the crowd off the train, and watched as people scattered off. Ron’s family was prominent in the whole crowd of people—Harry didn’t imagine he would be able to find such a large group of ginger-headed people anywhere at any time. Blaise walked to a corner and, in the corner of his eyes, Harry saw him vanishing into thin air. _Portkey_ , he guessed. Hermione walked towards the wall between the platform and the muggle world alone—her parents couldn’t cross the barrier—and Draco was stroking slowly and calmly towards a blond couple. Spotting Tony standing beside them, Harry soon caught up with Draco.

Narcissa bent down to kiss Draco on the cheek, and turned to Harry with a bright smile. “Harry, dear. Draco has told us a lot about you—it’s great to finally meet you.”

Harry smiled back and bowed, taking her hand. “The pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Malfoy.” He said. _A knight’s courtesy. I’m doing it right, am I?_ He thought to Tom

In contrast to Narcissa, the tall man with the same platinum blond hair as Draco looked much more…stern. He simply nodded at Harry before turning to Draco, signalling him to follow. He paused before passing Tony and exchanged some polite remark with him. Draco waved at Harry.

“Don’t mind him.” whispered Narcissa, “Lucius’s like that sometimes. He’s not used to interacting with bright young stars like you. It’s my pleasure to meet you, Harry, remember to call me Narcissa next time—or Aunt Narcissa. You’re Draco’s friend, and Mrs. Malfoy sounds way too formal.” She winked at him before she stood up and hurried to catch up with the other two.

 _She’s sweet_ , Tom said pleasantly.

Harry skidded to Tony and reached to hold his hand as Draco’s family leave the platform. Tony was staring after the Malfoy family as well. “Peacock’s sulkier than usual today.”

Peac…It took Harry a second before he realized Tony was talking about Mr. Malfoy. Harry’s mouth twisted before he decided to not comment of Dad’s new nicknames. Instead, he looked around then up at his father: “Dad, how are we going home today?”

Tony pulled down his sunglasses just a bit, and Harry saw his eyes glittering with a familiar mischievous light. “You choose, kiddo.” He grinned, “Do you want to portal home…or would you prefer some flying before you’re sent off to Romania?”

Harry’s brain auto-filtered the part about Romania, but his choice was obvious. He grinned widely and dragged Tony towards the barrier out of the wizardry world. Of course, he would choose to—

“FLY!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes the journey of Year 1! Thank you all for reading and commenting!!! I can't possibly do all this without my lovely readers :D I'll see you in Year 2, probably in the summer?

**Author's Note:**

> If any of the characters look OOC, it's completely my fault.
> 
> If Tony doesn't look perfect, it's also my fault (BECAUSE HE IS PERFECT)
> 
> Please comment to lemme know what you think? :D


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